Search for the Broken Soul
by InkandPaper
Summary: After making the decision to leave Hogwarts, Harry finds himself faced with a dark and difficult year. His only chance of survival lies in the destruction of the scattered shards of a broken soul, and the undoing of Voldemort's immortality.
1. Escape from Privet Drive

Disclaimer: If fanfiction is written by the author of the original book, it can't be classed as fanfiction! So why do we all have disclaimers? Godric knows …

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**SEARCH FOR THE BROKEN SOUL**

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A ray of sunlight crept through the window of an upstairs bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive, illuminating the form of a boy with black hair and rumpled, baggy clothes. Harry Potter was bent over a copy of _The Daily Prophet_, frowning at the photograph on the front page. A lean, rangy man stared back at him, lips stretched in a hideous grin. His hair was long and straggling, and he had unusually pointy yellow teeth. Bold lettering across the top of the page proclaimed, "FENRIR GREYBACK STRIKES AGAIN." Harry read the story slowly, feeling increasingly sick.

_In the early hours of this morning, two brothers, aged three and ten respectively, were found lying unconscious in Windelton Woods. Hans and Sidney Trimping, of Dorset, both show unmistakable signs of having been savaged and bitten by a werewolf. The Prophet is sorry to report that Hans has died of his injuries, while Sidney is in critical condition at St. Mungo's Hospital, London._

_The identity of the animal in question is unknown; however, Ministry Inspectors have voiced suspicions that the attack may have been the work of the notorious Fenrir Greyback, who…_

Harry stopped reading and threw down the paper onto his desk. It hit several empty inkbottles, which flew onto the floor and smashed. Harry hardly gave them a glance. This article was nothing new; Harry had been getting _The Daily Prophet_ for weeks, and had read many similar stories. According to the _Prophet, _Greyback had a large record of attacks on infants, stretching back over forty years. The reporters had called him the '_fleetest, most cunning beast of this era._" Too swift to outrun, too clever to catch, Greyback had evaded capture for all this time. And he was still at it, thought Harry grimly as he noted a second, smaller photograph, from which the elder brother screamed silently from his hospital bed.

A sharp tap on the window distracted Harry from his dark thoughts. Looking up, he saw a snowy owl perched precariously on the windowsill, two scrolls of parchment tied to her leg and a sorry-looking mouse dangling from her beak.

"Hedwig!" Harry got up hastily up from his chair and opened the window. Hedwig awkwardly half-flew, half-scrambled in, and Harry felt her warm, comforting weight settle on his arm. Stroking her head feathers, Harry removed the letters, and carried his owl over to her cage. She blinked her amber eyes at him and hooted softly, before gulping the mouse down in one mouthful.

Harry threw himself onto his bed and unfurled the first roll of parchment. The sight of Ron's untidy scribble lifted his spirits.

_How's it going, Harry? The Muggles still being gits? Yeah, I know you said they weren't being too bad but we can tell when you're fibbing to make us feel better. Look, just tell them I'll set Errol on them or something. Or that Dad will come over and blow up some other part of the house._

_Anyway, thought I'd let you know we're__ not at the Burrow anymore. Dad moved us all out when he saw some people watching the house. He reckons one of them was Travers - you know, that Death Eater with the face like a dead fish? So we're at the place where we stayed last summer -_

They were at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place? Harry's insides gave a small jerk, but he pushed the thought of Sirius out of his mind and kept reading.

_– it's much cleaner now. I think you're going to be brought here after your birthday. Hermione's here too, I swear she's trying to learn everything we'll miss in seventh year this summer. She's a nutter, she really is. _

_See you next week, unless you blow up your aunt again, then you really will be expelled! No, seriously, don't let them annoy you, because I don't think I can stand a whole summer with just Hermione, at least until she finishes memorising all three thousand, five hundred and sixty-four pages of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7.

Harry laughed as he folded up the parchment, though felt a slight twinge of guilt - it was, after all, his fault that he, Ron and Hermione weren't going back to Hogwarts. Though, he thought with a smile, he doubted if Ron really was as unhappy about being alone with Hermione as he claimed. The next letter was from her.

_Dear Harry,_

_Have you had a good summer so far? I know you're not thrilled to be at Privet Drive again, but at least you're safe, right? Don't let your aunt and uncle get to you - this time next week you'll never have to see them again anyway. I can't wait till you get here; Ron's been badgering me constantly when I'm working. He doesn't realise how important it is that we learn as much advanced magic as possible, and we're really going to need it this year. You had better be studying too, Harry. I think we need to learn some more obscure spells - ones that, if we're lucky, the Death Eaters don't know. I might go to Hogwarts and have a look in the Restricted Section, I'm sure Professor McGonagall would let me._

_Don't let what happened to Professor Dumbledore get you down. I don't know if you wanted me to bring that up but I really don't think you should dwell on it too much, you'll only make yourself more miserable._

_Anyway, I'll see you next week. Happy Birthday in advance! Ron's dad is going to collect you; I think he wants another look at your uncle's stereo system._

_Love, Hermione._

As he laid down the letter, Harry sighed. No, he hadn't wanted her to bring that up. Memories of the night Dumbledore had died still haunted his dreams, flashes of green light and images of his old Headmaster's face, pallid and weak, repeatedly forcing their way into his sleep, until he woke up drenched in sweat and panting. And cursing Severus Snape under his breath. In his heart Harry swore to himself, that if he ever saw that man again, he would kill him first and ask questions later.

The loud creaking of the Dursley's bedsprings and the sound of his uncle muttering something brought him back to the present time and to his senses. Hermione was right - he mustn't let Dumbledore's death crack him up. And so Harry shook his head to clear it, shoved the letters under the loose floorboard in his room where he kept all his secret possessions, then went downstairs without bothering to comb his hair.

* * *

A week later, it was his birthday. Once this would have been nothing out of the ordinary, but today Harry eagerly scoured the skies for owls bringing him cards from his friends. He hoped very much that this would be the last day he was stuck in Privet Drive; the thought of leaving to stay with Ron and Hermione had been what had allowed him to put up with Dudley's jeers and punches and the open hostility of his aunt and uncle over the summer.

Then, with a sudden leap of his heart, Harry spied a group of birds gliding towards him over the rooftops, and quickly he wrenched open the window. He jumped back as several owls swooped down at once, appearing suddenly and silently from the night. One, two, three owls glided smoothly through the open gap; the fourth, a bedraggled grey, slammed straight into the other window. Harry hastily leant out and grabbed it before it could drop to the ground. He checked the unconscious Errol anxiously to see if he was still alive, then, satisfied, relieved him of the huge package tied to his leg.

With the parcel was a hastily-scribbled note from Ron, wishing Harry a happy birthday and informing him that he was to be collected from Privet Drive at eleven o' clock the following morning. (Harry's spirits rose even higher.) Underneath the brown paper there were two parcels - one, obviously from Mrs Weasley, containing a large, sticky, treacle birthday cake, and a second present from Ron, which was struggling slightly in its wrappings. Harry eagerly ripped off the paper and out darted a real Golden Snitch, though he could tell it was a cheap one; after a few minutes of darting inquisitively around the room its little wings struggled to keep it in the air and it flopped onto Harry's bed, quivering with exhaustion. Harry watched it, grinning, then turned to the rest of his presents.

Hermione had sent him a large, leather-bound book entitled _Unique Defensive Magic: Little known Counter-Jinxes and Blocking Spells_, which he skimmed through enthusiastically. She was right; it was a good idea to learn unusual spells that the Death Eaters - and, if he were extremely lucky, Voldemort - would not know.

The third card was from Lupin, though there was no gift attached. This did not surprise or disappoint Harry, but he did wonder, with a twinge of anger, if the laws Dolores Umbridge had passed against werewolves still prevented his old teacher from finding employment.

Not entirely to Harry surprise, the card Hagrid sent snarled and snapped at his fingers when he opened it; he stuck it hastily on the windowsill, where it rocked and quivered, making ominous growling noises. With the card was a large parcel of lumpy biscuits, so hard he couldn't break one even after banging it repeatedly on the edge of his desk.

As he laid down his gifts, feeling happier than he had in a long time, Harry was suddenly gladder than ever that - however far from them he might be - he had friends.

* * *

None of the Dursleys acknowledged his presence at breakfast. Harry was hardly expecting enthusiastic birthday greetings, but still - he _had _come of age. They could at least look at him. Come of age … the sudden inspiration hit Harry like a gleam of sunlight. Of course - now he would never have to worry about Mafalda Hopkirk and her Decrees for the Improper Use of Underage Magic ever again! The thought filled him with a mischievous glee, and Harry suddenly knew exactly what he was going to do. He slid his wand out of his jeans pocket and pointed it under the table at his pathetically small grapefruit quarter, transfiguring it into a huge, sugary doughnut - not that he really wanted one, but they were Dudley's favourite. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who were still avoiding looking at him, noticed nothing, but Dudley, who could sniff out food a mile away, turned his head so fast he appeared to crick his neck.

"Mum!" Dudley said loudly, glaring at his cousin with piggy eyes as Harry grinned back at him.

Aunt Petunia turned affectionate eyes on her porky son. "Yes, Popkins?"

"You gave Harry - I don't have – give me that!" Dudley said, making a grab for the doughnut on Harry's plate. Harry flicked his wand and it leapt away from Dudley's grasping fingers; Harry picked it out of midair and bit noisily into it as Dudley gave a yell of fright. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were staring at Harry with identical expressions of bewilderment and horror on their faces.

"BOY!"

Harry, who had been licking his lips to incense Dudley further, whilst directing his wand under the table at his cousin's grapefruit and shrinking it to the size of a thimble, looked up innocently. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" he said politely, making his uncle's grapefruit disappear entirely with a muttered Vanishing charm.

"Where did you get that - that doughnut?" his uncle demanded, attempting to grab it from Harry, who widened his eyes in feigned innocence.

"Why, it was on my plate - I thought it was my birthday breakfast," he grinned, stuffing the rest of it whole into his mouth before Uncle Vernon could grab it from him.

Uncle Vernon's face was now dangerously red, but the upcoming outburst never came. For at that moment, Dudley noticed his tiny grapefruit and amidst his wails Harry slipped hastily out of his seat and out of range of Uncle Vernon's fist. He didn't forget to charm wings onto his aunt's grapefruit as he went so she screamed and ducked as it fluttered about the kitchen.

"YOU - YOU -!" Uncle Vernon hollered, struggling for words in his rage and swinging wildly at the flying fruit with one huge fist. "YOU STOP YOUR TRICKS OR I'LL - WE'LL -"

Harry grinned, and nonchalantly raised his wand again. "You'll what?" he asked politely, twirling it in his fingers. Then he remembered Ron's letter and started to laugh.

"THAT'S IT!" shouted Uncle Vernon. He suddenly became quiet, and deathly calm. "Get out of this house," he breathed, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed to slits. "Get out before I -"

Harry straightened his face. "If you chuck me out before Ron's dad gets here I'll tell Ron to set Errol on you," he said threateningly. Uncle Vernon's face turned a deeper shade of purple just as Aunt Petunia smashed the flying grapefruit with a frying pan. It fell wetly to the floor, wings quivering, as all three Dursleys turned fearful faces towards Harry.

"Errol?" said Uncle Vernon with a definite note of terror in his voice. "Who's Errol?"

"He belongs to the Weasleys'," said Harry, truthfully. "Gigantic bird. Magical. Biggest of its kind. You don't want to mess with Errol, let me tell you..."

Harry choked down his laughter at the looks of utter panic on his uncle's face, and after a short pause, Dudley stumbled rapidly from the room, followed by both his parents. For a little while, Harry had immense fun getting back at Dudley and his aunt and uncle for all the slights and punches he had endured at their hands. Soon all three of them immediately fled from any room he set foot in, as Harry began to hex small objects to fly, tap-dance and whistle whenever they were near.

Harry's fun was, however, short-lived. Within ten minutes there was a rapping at the window; a screech owl was trying to get in. It was holding a large purple envelope in its beak, and Harry's stomach plummeted. He wrenched open the window and the owl soared in, dropping the envelope into Harry's outstretched hands.

He ripped it open and skimmed it quickly, with a mounting feeling of horror and panic. Fragments of familiar sentences jumped out at him: "practising of innumerable spells" ... "presence of three Muggles" ... "expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" ... "Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand" ...

"But I'm of age," said Harry out loud, staring at the letter. "I'm qualified - it's not -" he broke off, suddenly panicked. He had to get out of here; his expulsion from Hogwarts didn't matter now, but he needed his wand. He could never surrender it, but where could he go? There was nowhere to go -

Then, in the split second in which Harry simply stood, the letter in his hands and the kitchen a confused blur of whiteness all around him, he heard the unmistakeable sound of several loud _pops _from the living room and yells of fright from the Dursleys; in horror, he realised the Ministry representatives must have arrived already. How could he keep his wand now? Not without fighting his way out, and that would get him into even more trouble...stuffing the letter into his pocket, he headed blindly for the back door, forgetting that all his worldly possessions were upstairs.

Then a familiar hoarse voice, floating into the kitchen from the lounge, jolted Harry to his senses. He stopped, hand on the doorknob.

"Where is Harry, Mr Dursley?"

Harry went weak with relief, then hurtled into the living room.

If he hadn't still been sure that Ministry representatives would be here any moment, Harry would have laughed out loud. Aunt Petunia and Dudley had both backed up against the wall in terror, looking as though they were trying to push themselves right through it, and Uncle Vernon was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by six witches and wizards - Members of the Order of the Phoenix. Uncle Vernon's face was beet red and turning purple faster than Harry knew to be safe, but he barely registered the familiar signs of an impending explosion.

"Remus!" he said weakly. "Mr Weasley - Tonks - I'm so glad you're all here -"

"What were you thinking of, boy?" barked Mad-Eye Moody, furiously. "You're not even of age!"

"What?" said Harry. "Yeah I am, that's why I don't get why they sent me _this._" He lifted up the purple envelope.

"You weren't born till mid-afternoon," said Lupin. "You're still very much sixteen. But we need to get out of here, fast - Harry, grab your stuff, go!"

He gave Harry an urgent push in the direction of the door, and Harry stumbled out of the room, mind whirling. He hurtled up the stairs and into his room, where he pulled out his wand - more magic wouldn't hurt, not now - and started directing everything he owned into his trunk. Hedwig's cage flew out of the door, followed by his Firebolt; Tonks and Mr Weasley had appeared behind him, helping. Luckily, Harry had packed nearly everything already, and in less than a minute he was rushing down the stairs three at a time, his trunk bumping behind him.

"WILL SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL YOU FREAKS ARE DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

Harry re-entered the living room just as Uncle Vernon seemed to have found the courage to speak out. Harry felt a surge of anger. Weirdos, were they?

"You -" he began, but Moody cut him off.

"Get going, idiot! Lupin, take him!"

Lupin clutched Harry's forearm so tightly it was painful, and turned on the spot. Harry was dragged away from the living room, at last, never to see the Dursleys again. And he wasn't sorry at all.

Though by now familiar, the sensation of Apparating was still so unpleasant that Harry wondered if he really wanted to take his Apparition test. The feeling of being squeezed through a very small tube was not one he was keen to repeat. He landed in the dank London street, gasping. Lupin smiled as though he knew what Harry was thinking. He looked much more relaxed now that they were out of Privet Drive, though still wary. Releasing his grip of Harry's arm, Lupin ushered him along the dank London street towards number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry heard several small pops behind and glancing round saw that the rest of the company had joined him. Mr Weasley's ears were pink, Moody looked contemptuous and Tonks slightly windswept. Such was the effect of the Dursleys, thought Harry with an inward grin, glad to see that he was not alone in his dislike.

Harry was feeling slightly light-headed after the scare he had just had and the close escape – not only that, but the realisation that he was, after sixteen long years, free from the Dursleys at last, was wonderful. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he couldn't quite believe it yet. Moody gave Harry a rough shove in between his shoulders to tell him to move faster. His magical eye was spinning wildly in its socket and he still looked thunderously angry.

They reached Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Moody rapped on the door of the old house three times, and it flew open almost immediately.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley dragged him into the house. "Harry, how could you do this to us?" she cried accusingly, after she had hugged Harry so hard he had all the air squeezed out of him. "Spells flying everywhere! And you not even of age yet! Lucky we had Hestia watching the house, or goodness knows what could have happened - Arthur, did anyone _see_?"

"The Ministry representatives arrived about three seconds after Remus Apparated Harry away," said Moody grimly. "But they won't be remembering much, once they wake up anyway - Arthur, Tonks and I saw to that."

Harry began to feel incredibly guilty for causing so much havoc, when all he had to have done was wait quietly for a few more hours. But Mrs Weasley evidently sensed his embarrassment, and melted. "Well, you weren't to know, dear," she said in a gentler tone. "We never did tell you exactly when you were born. Well, go on upstairs with Ron and Hermione while I get you something to eat, you're as thin as a rake -"

She was interrupted by a shriek.

"_Harry! _Oh, you're all right!"

Hermione came flying down the stairs, and Harry had the wind knocked out if him as she pulled him into a bear-hug, exclaiming and calling Ron and Ginny. Harry grinned as he saw the familiar freckle-faced, red haired figure of Ron bound down the stairs, and felt his heart give a funny leap when his sister appeared at the top, beaming at him. Harry hugged Ginny when she reached him, but let go fairly quickly. He'd already had this conversation with her, and wasn't going to back down now. There was no way he could carry on having a relationship with her until the war was ended and they could live a normal life. But it was good to be with them again, so good that he couldn't stop smiling despite what had just happened.

"Ginny, come and help me with dinner," said Mrs Weasley. "We'll make you a birthday feast, Harry, dear - even though you're still not of age, not till three o' clock! So _no magic_," she added threateningly, though with a small smile.

Ginny and the Order members disappeared into the kitchen, and Harry, Ron and Hermione clambered upstairs, hauling his truck behind them. Harry couldn't stop grinning. Four weeks was, after all, a long time to have been away from his best friends, and as he collapsed onto his bed with Ron and Hermione, he felt that, for now, nothing could spoil his gladness.

"Nice work with your aunt and uncle, Harry," said Ron, grinning.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, nice work - that's the second time I've come close to getting my wand destroyed." He pulled it out and turned it over in his fingers thoughtfully. He could barely imagine losing his wand; it felt as much a part of him now as his right hand.

"You had us really scared!" said Hermione, biting her lip. "You've got to be _careful_, Harry."

"I know, I know," sighed Harry. "I didn't realise I wasn't seventeen, okay?"

"Ah, forget it, she's not really mad," said Ron, settling back lazily onto Harry's pillows. "She's too happy to see you to be mad. So am I, actually - it's been hell stuck here with just Hermione for company, she won't stop _working_. You'd think, in the holidays, you'd want to forget books for a bit, but no … "

Harry laughed as Hermione hit Ron over the head with a cushion. Then, as Ron sat up, massaging his head, she turned to him seriously. She seemed pretty calm, though the worry in her eyes spoke a different story.

"Anyway, Harry - how are you?" she said. She surveyed him anxiously, and Harry understood the meaning behind those simple words. She was asking how he was coping with Dumbledore's death, and he turned away, the grin fading from his face.

"Fine," he said. "I'm fine. No, really - look, so Dumbledore's gone, I've just got to get over it, right? It just might take a bit of time. So - so what's been going on here then?" he said, quickly changing the subject. "You said you were having loads of fun?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, we have. Mostly because of Fred and George. _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_ is - well, it's amazing, it's taken off so well. Fred and George've bought places in Devon and Hogsmeade as well as Diagon Alley, and they're looking to expand abroad, maybe get premises in France, Germany... I can't believe they've been so successful. They're richer than Percy is, with his salary as Junior Assistant to Scrimgeour … " and he trailed off, looking moody. Hermione put her arm comfortingly round his shoulders. Ron looked slightly awkward, glancing at Hermione's hand on his sleeve, but he soon relaxed and continued. "They've come here a couple of times for lunch, they've been playing pranks on everyone, it's been great."

Hermione frowned slightly disapprovingly, sliding her arm off Ron's neck. "Well, it was funny when they played tricks on Tonks, and you, but I think they should have more respect for Professor Moody and Professor Lupin, I mean, they were their teachers…" she tailed off as Ron rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Hermione, that was why it was funny! No-one would've believed even Fred and George would dare to turn a teacher's hair blue -"

"They turned Lupin's hair blue?" said Harry, laughing.

"Nah, that was Moody. They put this electric-blue Popping Paintbomb in his bowler hat, the stuff wouldn't come off for days," said Ron with a snort of laughter. "What they did to Lupin was worse, they put crushed Canary Creams and Bunny Biscuits - they're a new thing - in his sandwiches. It doesn't wear off when they're combined, he was covered in feathers and rabbit fur for an hour before Mum forced the counter-charm out of Fred by threatening him with her broomstick." Ron sighed reminiscently.

Halfway through a disapproving shake of her head, Hermione turned abruptly to more important matters.

"Harry," she said seriously, and he and Ron looked up at her from the bed. "You know, we've been thinking about - about the Horcruxes." She said the last word in a whisper as though if she said it any louder Voldemort would come bursting through the window right that moment.

Harry sighed. "So've I," he said reluctantly, feeling the lump of the fake locket he carried around everywhere in his jeans pocket and pulling it out.

All three of them stared at the golden locket as it lay on the bedcovers, tarnished and dull. Then, as Hermione opened her mouth, evidently about to launch into a heavy discussion about R.A.B., Horcruxes and Snape, Harry impulsively grabbed the fake Horcrux and stuffed it straight back into his pocket up. He stood up as both Ron and Hermione looked up at him, surprised.

"Harry, what -"

"Let not talk about it now," he said firmly. "I've just got away from the Dursleys for ever, I'm seeing you for the first time in weeks, I want to have _fun - _at least for today."

Gratitude swelled in his chest as Ron and Hermione nodded in understanding.

So they spent the time before dinner laughing and talking about things that only best friends would find funny, and playing with the Snitch that Ron had given Harry for his birthday. Harry joked and fooled around, and savoured every moment of the normal, silly messing around he could get, for he knew that soon there would be little time for such trivial pleasures.


	2. Lupin's Predicament

Disclaimer: Nope, didn't create Harry Potter, or any of the other characters…

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That evening's meal began as a very merry affair, celebrating Harry's release from Privet Drive. Mrs Weasley seemed happier than anyone – except Harry himself – that he never had to see that part of his family again. She had cooked what seemed like all of Harry's favourite dishes and after he polished off the last crumbs of raspberry cheesecake he sat back in his chair feeling warm and full and deliciously tired. 

The noise of the front door creaking open, however, roused the company from their sleepy mood, and Harry, craning his neck round to see who the visitor was, sat up sharply as a familiar face came into view. For one, brief, heart-jolting moment, Harry thought Dumbledore had walked into the room. But he shook himself mentally, telling himself yet again, that the Headmaster was dead, and was not coming back. No – this was not Dumbledore, and now Harry looked at him properly he wondered how he could have thought so. This man was tall and thin like Dumbledore, with a straggly grey beard and the same long, slender fingers. Something about the stranger was very familiar, and he racked his brains, trying to place him. He also seemed to recognise the strong smell of goats emanating from the man's filthy robes. But his train of thought was interrupted as the old man glanced shrewdly round the little company, his eyes coming to rest on Harry face, and spoke. His voice was deep and rasping.

"Hello," he muttered unsmilingly. "No, I don't want tea, thanks - I've got to talk to Remus." Lupin rose, looking surprised and wary. He followed the man, who had backed out of the room into the hallway, sharp blue eyes flicking over their faces. Mrs Weasley put the kettle back on the shelf.

Nobody had spoken since the man had entered, and Harry, glancing round, saw that most of the adults still looked startled. Then Moody cleared his throat.

"Never thought I'd see him in Order company again - good to see him out of that filthy bar at last," he said, saying the last part under his breath, and Mr and Mrs Weasley nodded in agreement. A few minutes later the man slouched out of the front door without a backward glance, turned on his heel, and was gone. Lupin re-entered the kitchen and sat down, slightly paler than usual.

"What is it, Professor?" said Harry quickly. "Who was he? What did he want?" Lupin looked up to find them all staring at him in concern, and smiled, though it looked rather forced.

"Who was he, Harry? That was Aberforth. Dumbledore's brother," he added, as Harry looked slightly blank. _Dumbledore's brother!_ thought Harry, in surprise, only vaguely recalling hearing somewhere that Dumbledore had a brother at all. Lupin glanced round briefly before continuing in a strained voice.

"He came to tell me there has been a child discovered in the woods - a girl went missing last night, she was found alive - but -" He stopped, and swallowed.

Hermione inhaled audibly. "It was full moon last night, wasn't it, Professor?" He gave her a grim, tired look and nodded.

"The girl had been bitten. They suspect Greyback did it, you all know he - er – specialises in infants." They nodded sympathetically, all knowing Greyback had been Lupin's own attacker when he was only six years old.

"That brings the total of werewolf attacks up to twenty-seven since Lord Voldemort came out into the open. Aberforth told me to go into hiding."

There was a collective intake of breath, and Mrs Weasley whispered, "Why?"

Lupin looked at her directly. "Molly, the girl's parents, and the parents of the other children who have been attacked, are out for blood. You must be able to see why - anti-werewolf feeling is at its height and Aberforth believes it will be only a matter of days until the Ministry of Magic does something about it. I believe Albus asked him to help the Order should anything happen to him – I'm sure he knows a lot more than he lets on." He rubbed his forehead distractedly. "The Ministry has been bombarded with owls from the parents of children all over Britain – people are terrified. They may pass a law saying all known werewolves must be imprisoned – but that is only a guess," he added hastily as Mrs Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny let out ejaculations of anger.

"The trouble is, everyone now knows what I am - it was all over the _Prophet _after that year at Hogwarts. He thinks it advisable for me to, as I said, go into hiding until Greyback is caught and the attacks stop. Which I do not believe will happen," he added bitterly. "Greyback has been out there for thirty years and has never been found."

Mad-Eye Moody stood up, both his normal and magical eye fixed intently on Lupin. "So, will you?" he growled, "Go into hiding?" Lupin was silent for a while, then gave a non-committal shrug.

"If I do, it would mean I could not help the Order. There is no point in hiding safely and being of no use to anyone. It would be best for now just to wait and see whether the Ministry does take action. I shall sleep on it, I think. Don't worry," he added, looking at his friends' worried expressions. "I hope nothing will come of it."

Mrs Weasley rose from her chair, her face anxious. "Have some wine, Remus…you need a pick-up after that news, I think! Oh, my God, when will this end…" she muttered almost to herself as she waved her wand and the wine-bottle tipped some of its contents into one of Sirius' goblin-wrought silver goblets.

No-one answered her, there hardly being an answer to give. Lupin was staring at the table-top, seemingly lost in thought, and took the goblet from Mrs Weasley without looking at it. The next moment, his fingers jerked convulsively and he dropped the cup with a stifled cry of pain. Wine cascaded over the table-top. Harry and Ron jumped and looked at Lupin in bewilderment. He had gone paper-white and was wringing his hand as though it had been scalded. Everyone else, however, gasped and Mrs Weasley put her hand over her mouth, looking horrified.

"Remus! I - I'm so sorry, I forgot, I didn't think –"

But Lupin shook his head and she broke off.

"No, Molly, I apologise, I should have looked at what I was touching - I'm fine." He smiled reassuringly, though still very pale, and waved his wand once over the table. The spilt wine vanished, and Lupin rose.

"Well, I think that's enough excitement for one evening!" he said cheerfully. "I've caused too much trouble tonight, I had better go upstairs before I make any more. Goodnight, all." As Lupin passed Harry on his way to the door, he saw his old teacher's hand was red and burnt-looking, and after he had left the kitchen, nobody spoke for a long time. The meal ended extremely quickly.

When he had laid down his knife and fork, Harry caught Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's eye and jerked his head in the direction of the door. They stood up at once, Ron deliberately giving a fake yawn when his mother was facing his way, and looking expectantly at her. She reacted as he intended.

"Bed, all of you, you've had a busy day." And they left as quickly as they could. Harry was burning to ask Hermione many questions but he waited until they were all sitting on his bed and the door was shut.

"What was all that about?" he burst out. "Why did Lupin -?"

Hermione had a strange expression on her face as she answered.

"You didn't do that werewolf essay for Snape in our third year, did you?" They shook their heads. "Well, I did," she said. "And I had to research how to kill werewolves, remember? And the only thing that is effective when a werewolf has transformed, the only thing that can kill it, is silver. And the touch of silver is agony to werewolves even in human form, that's why Lupin couldn't hold that goblet. He usually uses steel plates and cutlery, haven't you noticed?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really," he said.

"His hand looked burnt," said Ginny, looking at Hermione, who sighed. "I read in _Dark Creatures and How to Defend Yourself when You Meet One_ that silver causes more pain to a werewolf than the Cruciatus Curse does to a human."

Ron was looking green. Harry, who had felt the Cruciatus Curse himself, several times, found it hard to imagine pain worse than that, and he shuddered.

"D'you think the Ministry really will say that all known werewolves must go to Azkaban?" asked Ron dubiously, and Harry spread his hands.

"Dunno," he said. "Seems a bit harsh, doesn't it? I mean, Lupin's never hurt anyone." But Hermione made a small doubtful noise and he looked at her. "What?"

"Well, I'm sure the Ministry remembers he was on the loose in Hogwarts grounds - they could easily bring that up."

"He won't get caught, anyway," said Harry firmly. "He's hardly going to walk into the Ministry on Magic and say 'look, it's me, the werewolf,' is he?"

Hermione just shrugged. "He said himself he probably won't hide so he'll still be interacting with wizards. As long as he isn't recognised –" but she broke off as she heard Mrs Weasley coming up the stairs to check on them and Apparated hurriedly to her own room, with a whispered "'Night!" Ginny gave Harry a fierce hug and kissed him goodnight, before slipping out of the room to join Hermione.

They climbed into bed, each occupied with their own thoughts, but Harry lay awake for a long while after Ron's snores had filled the room, thinking…

* * *

The next day was very sombre; Aberforth had been proven correct. The _Daily Prophet_ had arrived with the news that a new law had been passed, more severe and shocking than Lupin had expected. It had proclaimed that any known werewolf, if found, would be arrested on the spot, interrogated, and if found to have ever endangered any person, wizard or Muggle, would be administered the Dementor's Kiss as soon as possible. Following the article containing this news were a series of letters from the wizarding community roaring their approval of the new law. Everyone was very quiet around Lupin that day. He appeared calm, though rather distracted, and spoke very little, seeming to be deep in thought. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny couldn't believe it as they stared at the Daily Prophet. "No way," was all Ron could say. "No way, they can't."

But Harry could think of nothing to say as he re-read the lines of the new law: '_administered the Dementor's Kiss as soon as possible...'_

"Harry?" Hermione was looking at him in some concern. "Harry, it'll be fine - Professor Lupin will just have to go into hiding, that's all."

"They can't do this!" he burst out angrily. "It's not like all werewolves are bad, it's just that Greyback's fault, it's always him who attacks people!" And Hermione and Ron seemed unable to find anything to reply to this, as they agreed completely.

That lunchtime, Lupin told them all as they were grouped round the table, that he had decided he was not going to go into hiding. There was much shaking of heads at this decision and a few people started to speak, but Lupin cut across them, his voice quiet but firm.

"I do not wish to be of no use to the Order for the duration of the war. There are always terrible risks involved in fighting Voldemort; this is just an additional one. And, after all, very few people would recognise me – they know my name from the _Prophet _but I am not widely recognised in the wizarding community."

And nothing anyone could say would persuade him to change his mind.

The next day Lupin had gone, away on business for the Order. It seemed everyone had accepted his decision to remain active. Harry felt slightly depressed as he heard of Lupin's departure. His old teacher was one of the few adults Harry felt able to confide in, especially since Sirius' death. He had even had considered telling Lupin about the Horcruxes, despite what Dumbledore had said about keeping Voldemort's secret, well, secret. Harry had decided that Lupin could be a great help in tracking down the pieces of soul. The man was intelligent, trustworthy and skilled in Defence magic, and surely would be glad to be of assistance. However, Harry's disappointment, even slight annoyance, vanished when he heard where Lupin had gone. Hermione was very pale as she related to Ron and him what she had overheard Lupin telling Moody.

"He going back to join the werewolves, back to Greyback and the rest of them – "

"WHAT?" said Harry loudly. "No. No way. He fought against the Deatheaters and Greyback that – that night – they'll _know_ he's a spy!"

Hermione sighed and spread her hands helplessly.

"He said Dumbledore would have wanted him to keep on spying, that he thinks he might be on the way to persuading a few of them to join him."

"Greyback'll rip him to pieces before he persuades any of them," said Harry flatly.

Ron looked rather sick, but made an obvious effort to speak comfortingly. "Lupin's not stupid, he'll find a way to convince them, somehow…." His voice trailed away into nothing as Harry paced the room in agitation, not noticing Ron and Hermione's attempts to calm him down. What was Lupin thinking of, he thought furiously, the man was walking into a death-trap.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry went to sleep that night. His dreams were punctuated with the screams of children, and visions of Greyback's face staring at him from a newspaper, lips pulled back from sharp teeth in a malicious grin.


	3. Aberforth

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine…

* * *

Nightmares had prevented him from sleeping well and the next day Harry woke feeling as though his head was stuffed full of Bubotuber Pus. He groaned loudly as the early morning sunlight streamed in through the window and hit him across his closed eyelids.

"Bad night?" mumbled Ron from his bed across the room, sounding half-asleep himself. Next moment, however, both Harry and Ron jerked fully awake as a loud _Crack!_ split the air, and Hermione appeared in the room, a disorientated-looking Ginny clinging to her arm and giggling.

Harry and Ron both jumped and instinctively clutched their bedcovers around themselves, which only made Ginny laugh harder.

"Shy, boys?" she teased. "We decided to come and say good morning."

"Couldn't you have just knocked, like, the normal way?" muttered Ron, his ears slightly red.

"I thought I'd practise Side-Along Apparition," said Hermione briskly, settling herself comfortably on Ron's bed. "It might come in useful one of these days. Which reminds me, Harry, you can take your test now. Ron's going to, too."

Ron sat up, forgetting his embarrassment. "Yeah, I think Mum's booked us in for sometime next week. You'll have no trouble though, mate, blimey, you've already Apparated, er - a lot…" he trailed off, looking awkwardly at Harry. Harry knew he had been about to mention Dumbledore, and shrugged.

"You can talk about Dumbledore, you know," he said lightly. "We can't just avoid it. Besides, I think we _need_ to talk about him. What did you think of Aberforth?"

"I never realised!" said Hermione, and they all looked at her. "Oh, come on, didn't you recognise him?" When Ginny and Ron shook their heads, she sighed impatiently. "Harry? Please don't tell me you didn't know who he was - you've seen him enough times."

"I thought I did," said Harry slowly. "But then I reckoned it must've just been that he looked like Dumbledore. The goat smell was familiar, though."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I should think so – The Hog's Head reeks of goats."

"Oh..." said Harry, realisation dawning. "You don't mean - not the barman?"

But he didn't really need to ask - now he thought of it, the tall, thin man behind the bar with his straggly grey beard and deep eyes did bear a vague resemblance to Albus Dumbledore. And Harry wondered why he had never noticed it before.

Harry sat there digesting this surprising piece of information, and as he sat, he began to think what an idiot he'd been. Of course, he'd seen Aberforth that day of the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army, not to mention, he saw him again the next year in Hogsmeade, talking with Mundungus. And now, he thought, mentally kicking himself, hadn't Mad-Eye Moody pointed Aberforth out to him in the old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix? He ought to have recognised the barman the first time he set eyes on him - Harry supposed he had been too disturbed by the shock of seeing his parents in the picture to think much of it.

"The barman?" Harry heard Ron saying, sounding confused. "That stinky old barman's Dumbledore's _brother_?"

And Harry had a sudden thought. "He could have been spying on us," he said slowly. "Dumbledore used to get information from him - I saw, in the Pensieve – Dumbledore said he was friendly with the local barman, that's how he knew all Voldemort's followers were waiting for him in the bar, that time he went to ask for a job at Hogwarts."

"We need to go and speak to him," said Hermione as soon as she heard this, and Ron and Harry nodded in agreement. Dumbledore might have given his brother some information about the Horcruxes – hadn't Lupin said only last night, Aberforth knew more than he let on?

Ginny was looking slightly lost. "Harry, I don't understand – why do you need to talk to Dumbledore's brother?"

Harry chewed his bottom lip nervously as he looked at her, Dumbledore's warnings to him ringing clearly in his mind, _"I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else…" _Harry knew he could trust Ginny with his life. But would this put _her _life at risk? Was it safe for her to know?

"Look, Ginny." He took a deep breath. "There's something I haven't told you. And I don't think I _can_ tell you. I'm sorry. But it's because I don't want to put you in danger, don't you see? Dumbledore told me to keep this to myself – and Ron and Hermione - because it might be the only chance of destroying Voldemort we get." Harry stopped there because the frustrated look on Ginny's face was more than he could handle at that moment.

"Harry!" she burst out. "Do you think I would go around telling everybody – "

"No, Ginny," Harry interrupted her quickly (he knew that, as with her mother, it was dangerous to let Ginny work herself into a rage) "I know you wouldn't ever, not intentionally. But we're talking about Death Eaters here, and about Voldemort. If you know what we know, it could - it could kill you. I'm pretty sure one other person has died because of it already," he added, thinking of R.A.B.

Ginny looked about to argue but Hermione crossed the room and sat down next to her on Harry's bed. "Ginny," she said kindly. "Harry knows what he's doing. It really is best for you to stay out of it. We may be talking life and death here."

"And you think I'll be all right sitting comfortably here, or at Hogwarts, just waiting to hear if one of you has been killed?" said Ginny fiercely, eyes flashing. "You don't want me to know anything, so I'll never be able to help you! Surely the more of us, the better? And I couldn't stand it if – if anything happened, to any of you – " she broke off, blinking furiously as she held back tears, and Hermione patted her soothingly on the back.

"Ginny…" Harry began, awkwardly. He never knew what to do when girls started crying. "Look, I can't back down over this, I just can't. How do you think I would feel if you – if you died, because of me? Too many people have already. It's not that I don't want you in my life, that's just stupid. But not yet. Not until the war is over. If you stayed here, safe, I would be much happier than if you came with me, wherever I'm going."

"We dunno what we're getting into, Ginny," said Ron quietly. "But we do know it'll be dangerous. And besides," he added, trying to lighten the mood, "What would I tell Mum?"

Ginny made a small noise, between and sob and a laugh. "Fine. Alright, I'll stay here," she said, looking at the floor. "But Harry, oh Harry – watch your back… and you too, Ron, Hermione… I want you all back here in one piece after you finish off Voldemort," she said, half jokingly, though shivering slightly.

Harry smiled regretfully, wishing it could be that easy. "Thanks, Ginny," he said simply, relief flooding through him, and he felt another burden drop from his shoulders.

But Ron was looking at his sister with an uncharacteristically shrewd expression on his face. "Promise us, Ginny," he said suddenly. "Swear you won't go following us or anything."

Ginny glared at her brother, twisting her fingers in her lap, and seemed about to retort angrily when she caught Harry's eye, and faltered. "I – oh, alright…I swear, I won't follow you," she said, half-defiantly, throwing her long red hair over her shoulders, and standing up.

"I'm going to have breakfast," she said, walking quickly out of the room, and they heard the sound of her footsteps clattering, not downstairs, but in the direction of her bedroom. Harry felt wretchedly guilty, sure that Ginny had left so they wouldn't see her cry. But it did not shake his resolve. He couldn't, and wouldn't, lead any more people into danger, just for him.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione saying gently, "Harry? While Ginny's not here, I think we need to talk. About – about You-Know-What…" Harry sighed, but got up, and she watched him as he crossed the room and dug out the fake Horcrux from his chest of drawers.

The locket lay innocently on the bed, illuminated by a ray of sunlight sneaking through a crack in the heavy black curtains. Hermione frowned, staring at it thoughtfully. Ron leaned over Harry's arm and prised it open, and the note from R.A.B. fluttered out. Harry caught it instinctively, and he and Ron both scanned it again for further clues. But Hermione was still looking at the locket as though she was trying to remember something, and after a while, Ron looked over at her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Hermione jumped slightly and glanced at him.

"I don't know…" she said slowly. "There is something – but I'm not sure – and I think, I might be right –" Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, before saying irritably, "When you remember us, we're here waiting patiently, as always," and Hermione shook her head slightly, as though trying to clear it.

"It's seeing that locket here, I – I just get a feeling I've seen it here before," and Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows at each other.

"No, really," she said, biting her lip. "Harry, what was in all that rubbish we cleared out of the cupboards when you first came here?"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"What, you expect me to remember that? From two years ago? I dunno…er, there was a box of Wartcap powder, er – an Order of Merlin…"

"And a locket?" she prompted eagerly. "Was there a locket?" Harry racked his brains, but he couldn't remember. If there had been…if there had been a Horcrux here, all the time…

"I don't know, Hermione" he said finally. "But I trust you. If you think there was, you're probably right." And Ron nodded emphatically in agreement.

"Yes…I don't remember exactly, but I'm almost sure. What did Sirius do with all the stuff?"

With a sinking feeling Harry remembered the many bin bags they had spent the summer filling with old Dark objects and rubbish from the cupboards, and beside him he heard Ron groan.

"It could be anywhere," said Ron, casting his hands up in a hopeless gesture. "Sirius probably just threw it out."

"Back to Square One," Harry said grimly, already casting around for ideas, but Hermione was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye.

"I don't think so," she said, in a low voice quivering with suppressed excitement, and Harry and Ron stared at her. "R.A.B." she said quietly, and Harry frowned, puzzled.

"Where are we?" she said excitedly, and Ron gave a half-laugh.

"Er, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, remember? Or had you forgotten?"

"Oh, don't be stupid," she snapped. "We're in the house of one of the darkest wizarding families – '_The Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black._' Well, what if _R.A.B_ was a Black? 'B' would be the initial of his surname, right? So, what if he brought the locket back here?" And Harry gazed at her, mouth slightly open, marvelling at her brilliant mind.

"Hermione, you're a genius," he said sincerely. Ron was simply gaping at her. Hermione smiled, blushing slightly, and stood up.

"Where're you going?" said Ron, finding his voice.

"To look at something that will tell me exactly who this R.A.B. is, if he really was a Black - the tapestry. The family tapestry with all the names of the Blacks on it," she clarified, as Ron looked blank. Harry stood up too, excitement coursing through his veins. "Let's go," he said, striding across the bare boards and opening the door, and together they made their way to the tapestry room.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's short, but please review!**


	4. Brother and Sister

Disclaimer: Guess what - I created Harry Potter! Aren't you all surprised? I lied in my other disclaimers! ... I wish.

* * *

They all paused outside the room when they reached it, memories of Sirius and house-cleaning flooding back to them.

"God, he hated this house so much," muttered Harry, as he surveyed the bare room before him, still smelling of damp and mould even after all Mrs Weasley's efforts to ventilate it. The dusty cupboards were empty, stripped of all their dark objects, and Harry glanced at them, trying to remember if there really had been a locket in them. But his mind was blank. Ron, on the other hand, suddenly let out a sigh of remembrance and Harry turned his head quickly, questioning Ron with a look.

"Yeah, I remember," said Ron, nodding. "There _was_ a locket. Great heavy gold thing, we tried to open it, remember? But it was stuck. And," he added, looking amazed at his own brilliance, "I've just realised - Kreacher!"

"Kreacher?" repeated Harry, perplexed, but beside him, Hermione breathed a sigh of comprehension. "Yes… yes!" she whispered, and suddenly turned to Ron and hugged him, hard. He went purple -either from embarrassment or because she'd cut off his air supply, Harry couldn't tell which. When she let go, after giving him a quick kiss, Ron reeled backwards, cheeks aflame and a mixture of shock and bliss stamped on his face. As he seemed incapable of normal speech, she continued, looking slightly amused.

"Kreacher came in, remember? And he took some of Sirius' things from the waste bags. So, what if he took the locket? Ron, you're wonderful." He flushed even more, his face clashing dreadfully with his hair. But Harry was still sceptical.

"What if he didn't? Sirius threw him out before he had a chance to nick anything."

Hermione's face fell, but Ron punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't be too optimistic, mate, I'm drowning in all that hope. We might as well ask Kreacher, just in case. There's a chance he could've sneaked some stuff out later."

"But for now," said Hermione briskly, "Let's have a look at that tapestry." And together they crossed the dusty floorboards to the other side of the room where the ancient tapestry hung, faded and somehow strangely sinister. More memories came surging through Harry's mind ... here Sirius had told him about his childhood, how he hated his pureblood family. How he'd run away from home.

Harry stared at the yellowed cloth, running his fingers over the embroidered names, and could almost hear Sirius' brooding voice in his mind as his gaze flicked from one name to another.

_Elladora Black…_Aunt Elladora, the house-elf decapitator … _Narcissa Malfoy, _Draco Malfoy's mother ... next to that, a small burn mark - all that remained of Andromeda, the shameful wife of a Muggle.

_Bellatrix Lestrange_… Harry's fists clenched as her stared at that particular name - Sirius' murderer. Harry was busy swearing to himself that one day, he would kill her in the slowest, most painful way his imagination could provide him with when Hermione's voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

"Harry!" she gasped. "Harry, look -" he had rarely heard her so excited, and he and Ron leant over quickly to read the name she was pointing to.

_Regulus Black._

Harry's heart missed a beat. Regulus Black, Sirius' brother… what had Sirius said about him? His parents preferred Regulus because he was far more Slytherin than Sirius could even pretend to be.

Harry looked at the numbers beside Regulus' name for more clues and saw the date of death. So young to die... a memory was nagging at Harry's mind. And then it hit him. A realisation so strong he felt dizzy. And Harry's own words came back to him from that summer only two years ago, "_Was he killed by an Auror?" "No, he was murdered by Voldemort…he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out."_

But what if Sirius had been wrong? So few knew Voldemort's secret. If Regulus had been killed by Voldemort, could it not have been for a deeper, more sinister reason? "_I know I will be dead long before you read this..." _If Regulus had known, perhaps he had not been a Death Eater after all. Could he have been a spy?

"Harry," said a loud and impatient voice in his ear. "You're turning into Hermione. You going to tell us what you're thinking, or just keep sitting there looking enlightened?"

"Wha-? Oh - yeah, sorry," said Harry, focusing on Ron and Hermione. He'd almost forgotten they were there. Quickly he told them everything he could remember about Regulus, Hermione's eyes widening with every sentence.

"Oh, Harry, if he was - if he was really a good person! Do you think so? Yes, it fits, it all fits," she answered herself, and she began muttering inaudibly under her breath, forehead furrowed. Harry and Ron waited, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. After about five minutes, they were rewarded. Hemione looked up at them, satisfied.

"Yes. He's got to be R.A.B. He was killed for finding out Voldemort's secret, he found the Horcrux but must have hidden it here before Voldemort hunted him down. Regulus was either always on our side, as a spy, and didn't tell his parents, or he was a Deatheater but turned traitor to Voldemort. I'm sure of it." Harry and Ron nodded all the way through her speech. Harry was still marvelling that the mysterious R.A.B. who had plagued him all summer was actually his dead godfather's brother, but then his spirits sank as he thought again of the locket.

"Well, it's great we've worked it out, but I still think it's unlikely the locket's still here," he said, standing up and brushing some old, dry Doxy droppings off his robes. "We may as well have a look in Kreacher's room now, though, just in case."

Kreacher's old room, the little space in the kitchen that enclosed the boiler, looked much the same as ever, though with a forlorn, disused feel about it. The same filthy nest of tattered sheets covered the floor - Hermione's face fell as she looked in vain for the patchwork quilt she had given the elf - and tucked away behind a bundle of dirt-smeared rags which seemed to have served as a pillow, lay some small objects. Part of a wooden photo-frame stuck out, a silver watch-strap, and something else - gleaming gold! Harry heard Hermione's excited gasp in his ear as he reached out quickly, heart thumping, and pushed aside the pillow to reveal the items entirely.

There was no locket.

All three groaned quietly in disappointment. The gold object was just an ordinary brooch, stamped with the Black crest. Ron pushed aside a silver music box, an Order of Merlin, and the photograph, searching in vain.

"_Accio_ _locket!_" said Hermione firmly, pointing her wand inside the den. Nothing happened.

Harry shut his eyes, concentrated on the locket as hard as he could, and waved his wand to the house in general, "_Accio locket!_" They all strained their ears, hoping against hope to hear an object come zooming out of one of the rooms. But after a few minutes of tense silence, all three had to admit defeat.

"Okay, so the locket's not here," said Harry resignedly. "Well, where do we try next?" But before anyone could answer, they were interrupted.

"What are you doing?" came a startled voice at the doorway. They looked all jumped and glanced round guiltily. Ginny was standing there, still in her nightdress, looking at them all as though they had lost their minds. Harry and Hermione both had their wands drawn from the Summoning Spells and Ron had been leaning back on his haunches, staring gloomily into Kreacher's den. Mrs Weasley appeared behind her, peering curiously into the kitchen. Ron slammed shut the door of Kreacher's den and Harry and Hermione hastily pocketed their wands, as Ginny and her mother entered the kitchen.

"Nothing, Ginny, nothing," said Ron evasively. "I just, um, got the wrong door, Mum, I, er - I thought it was the pantry," he added lamely, for his mother was looking at him shrewdly.

"I hope you three aren't up to anything dangerous again," Mrs Weasley said, hands on hips, and Harry could see she hadn't swallowed Ron's lame story for one minute. "Because I know you lot, can't stay out of trouble for five minutes, you're worse than Fred and George for making me worry sometimes!"

"Aw, Mum, we're all right," said Ron vaguely. "Just messing around, you know. Want to go to your room, Harry? Um, we could learn some magic from Hermione's books!" he said, glancing at Mrs Weasley who, if she had looked curious before, now looked extremely suspicious, and the three of them hurried out before she could ask any more questions.

Halfway up the stairs, Harry felt rather than heard someone close behind him, and turned to see Ginny stealthily following him, a determined look on her face. He sighed, knowing a confrontation was coming, but didn't try to stop her coming into his room.

"What were you _really_ doing?" she demanded, the minute the door closed and they were out of range of Mrs Weasley's hearing.

Harry sighed. "Look, Ginny, it's to do with what I told you about earlier - "

"What you _didn't _tell me, you mean!" she shot back, hair looking redder that ever and her eyes flashing. Harry rubbed his nose helplessly.

"Well, yeah - Ginny, look -"

"Harry, don't do this to me," she said angrily, shaking her head. "Don't keep me in the dark any longer. I've been thinking, and you're making me feel like you can't trust me, and you know, just maybe I could _help_ you."

"I do trust -"

"Then tell me, Harry."

"Ginny -"

"What have you got to lose?"

"You, maybe?" Harry shot back, starting to get angry himself.

"If there are four of us, we can protect each other better!"

"Not necess-"

"Remember your 'saving-people thing', Harry?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other nervously, and Harry sat down heavily on the bed, running his hand over his eyes. Ginny stood there, adamant, glaring at him, and he sighed. He hated doing this to her, and perhaps she had a point, anyway. His 'saving-people thing' hadn't always been good in the end; and Dumbledore could've been wrong, he thought wearily. Ginny was clever, she had guts, she knew her stuff - but he didn't want to lead anyone else into danger if he could help it.

"Ron, Hermione, help me out here," Harry said to them in desperation. "Dumbledore said not to tell anyone else but you, but if we all agree - what d'you think?"

Ron hesitated. "I dunno, Ginny," he said, fidgeting and avoiding his sister's eyes. "Mum's going to go spare when she finds out what I'm doing, and she'll blame me if you get duffed up -"

Harry grimaced, but Ginny said coolly, "Maybe I might end up stopping _you_ getting 'duffed up', Ron, I'm not rubbish with a wand, you know."

"Hermione?" asked Harry, turning to her before Ron and Ginny could start quarrelling.

"I think Ginny should know," said Hermione simply.

"Why?" said Harry helplessly.

"For all the reasons Ginny's given you, and I happen to think that if Dumbledore were here, he'd agree with me."

"But Dumbledore said -"

"Well, Ginny was only just fifteen when he said that," said Ron slowly. He was looking at his sister carefully, as though seeing her in a slightly different light. "And did you ask if you could tell her?"

"Well, no, but -"

"Maybe Hermione's right, then," said Ron, shrugging.

Ginny kept quiet, watching them very seriously.

"Things have changed, Harry!" said Hermione impatiently, as he dithered. "It's your choice, but I've been thinking for ages that Ginny should know; if you can't trust her, who can you trust?"

"I'm not worried about that," said Harry, annoyed. "You know I'm just scared Ginny'll get hurt."

"We've been through this," said Ginny, teeth gritted. "You three have just as much chance -"

"Fine!" snapped Harry, gripping his hair in frustration and feeling somehow just as he had that day eight years ago when Dudley's gang had cornered him amongst the school dustbins. "Fine, I give in, I'll tell you, just sit down and listen, okay?"

Ginny looked momentarily taken aback, but she sat and said nothing, just waiting.

"Right," said Harry, already wishing he hadn't agreed to this. "Well, it's a long story. I just hope Dumbledore's ghost won't pop up and bite my head off for this..."

Harry talked for a long time, starting from the very beginning and finally bringing out the fake locket Horcrux to show her. As he told her the story of the Prophecy, the memories Dumbledore had shown him, and finally the Horcruxes and the task he had to complete, Ginny's expression barely changed. She simply listened, and never took her eyes from Harry's face. Harry ended (rather lamely), with " - and, well, that's it really. Voldemort or me."

Ginny didn't speak. She looked up into Harry's face, the old wonderful blaze in her face, and simply hugged him, hard.

Then she whispered in his ear, "I'll be with you, Harry - count on me. All the way."

Ron was already looking anxious; Harry guessed he was dreading the inevitable battle with Mrs Weasley later when they told him her daughter wasn't going back to Hogwarts, but was going with them to places even they didn't yet know. Hermione was for some reason looking much happier now that Ginny was in the know, and some part of him was relieved, too; he had hated hurting Ginny by keeping secrets from her. And somehow now that he had told her, Harry found himself strangely glad to know that he had he determined support.

"But now we've sorted that out, we'd better not waste any more time," Hermione was saying. "We know what we have to do next. Ask Kreacher - Harry, call him here, he might be able to tell us something."

"Do I have to see that wretched little elf again?" muttered Harry darkly. Part of him still blamed Kreacher for Sirius' death. The foul creature had lied to him…it had been his fault Harry had gone to the Ministry in the first place. But Hermione gave him a stern look, and Harry gave in, throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine…Kreacher!" he said firmly, focusing his mind on the elf, and the next moment there was a loud _Crack!_ and sure enough, Kreacher the house elf appeared. He was filthy as ever, bent low and glaring up at Harry through his yellowed eyeballs in greatest loathing.

"Master called?" he whined, bowing ridiculously deeply, his face dark with mutiny.

"Yeah, I did," said Harry, looking down at Kreacher in distaste. "We want you to tell us everything you know about a golden locket that was in one of the cupboards upstairs."

Kreacher bowed again, his snout-like nose now scraping the floor, and began muttering to himself. "Master wants to know about the locket, yes he does, the locket that was mine, I kept it, I saved it for my mistress and young dead master, and now it's gone, he stole it he did, yes, and he had no right to touch young dead master's property, filthy tramp of a Mudblood that he was, oh if my mistress knew, she'd be furious - "

"Yeah, yeah, we don't need to know about Sirius' mum thanks, Kreacher, we hear enough from her portrait as it is," said Ron, cutting across the elf's rambling. "So who took it?"

Kreacher stared at Ron in utmost detestation and began muttering again, "The blood-traitor is trying to order Kreacher around, Kreacher will not answer, no, my mistress would be ashamed to see Kreacher talk to such a blood-traitor, oh she would…"

"All right, Kreacher, enough!" said Harry loudly, ignoring Hermione's reproachful glance. "Who took the locket?" The elf tried rebelliously to keep his mouth shut, ears quivering in effort, but then as though he couldn't help himself, reluctant words came tumbling out. "That Mudblood took it, he did, yes, the filthy thief of a half-blooded traitor…"

Then Harry realised, and, knowing the 'filthy thief' to be out of their reach in Azkaban, breathed out the name in dismay, "Oh, God…not _Mundungus._"

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**Review? Pretty please :D**


	5. Kreacher's Orders

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling (sigh! Don't I wish they were mine!)

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**Harry thought back to his last meeting with Mundungus, in Hogsmeade. He still felt a hot surge of anger when he thought about Mundungus shamelessly nicking Sirius' - or rather, his - possessions just a few weeks after his godfather's death. He had always known the man wasn't exactly honest (to put it mildly) but had never before had any reason to dislike him. He had once even felt indebted to him for Disapparating at the crucial time when Umbridge's Dementors had shown up, for although it had almost led to his expulsion from Hogwarts, at least it had got him away from the Dursley's and back into the wizarding world.

But now…now he had a real reason to resent him, for he was pretty sure if the man hadn't made off with the locket, it would have remained safely in Kreacher's little den for them to find. Being completely unfamiliar with the criminal wizarding underworld, he mused sourly that, by now, the locket would probably have passed through several hands, and the chances of him tracking it down grew slimmer with every day that passed…

"Well, we might as well write to the Ministry now," said Hermione, in a businesslike way, already searching for some parchment. Harry stopped brooding and looked over at her.

"Write to the Ministry? What for?" She rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, obviously we can't just stroll into Azkaban and chat to Mundungus - well, we could, but for my part I fancy keeping my soul _in_ my body - so we need permission, don't we?"

His insides twisted, and he swallowed. "You, er - we're planning to go to Azkaban, then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but she gave him a sharp glance and then her features relaxed into a sympathetic expression. "Oh, Harry, I wasn't thinking…you don't have to go, if you don't want to." That sounded good… then Harry shook himself mentally. Hadn't his friends decided to go with him wherever he went, and support him through whatever hell was coming? It would be nice repayment to let them do all the dirty work for him. Harry forced a smile.

"Well, Dementors aren't exactly my best pals," he said lightly. He felt Ginny's comforting hand on his arm, and his stomach unclenched a little. "But, no, I'll come. I don't think I should miss anything, and besides, Mundungus might feel he has to tell me about the locket more than you three, since he did steal it from my house. Anyway, there aren't that many Dementors there any more - most of them went to join Voldemort." Hermione bit her lip, looking at Harry uncertainly, but she seemed to notice the determined set of his chin and nodded slowly.

"Alright, if that's what you think's best -" but she was cut off by Ron's loud, irritable, "Harry, mate, get rid of him, won't you?" They looked around to see Ron watching Kreacher with an aggrieved expression, as the elf stood glaring nastily up at him through his bloodshot, bulbous eyes, muttering darkly about filthy blood-traitors, just audibly enough for Ron to hear. Harry laughed, and was about to order Kreacher to go back to the Hogwarts kitchens, when Ginny's arm shot into his chest in excitement, winding him. "Ouch!"

"Harry, wait!"

"I - I'm not doing anything!" he gasped, massaging his ribs. She bounced excitedly on the bed, not noticing him. "Harry, I've just realised - Kreacher knew Regulus, didn't he? So, you can ask him about -" but at that moment there was a loud _Crack! _Kreacher had Disapparated, and Ginny broke off in surprise.

"Kreacher, come back!" said Harry loudly and firmly, having regained his breath, and with another _Crack!_ Kreacher reappeared, twisting at his ears in agitation and stamping his little feet. Harry ignored him.

"And stay here, this time," he added pointedly. "Thanks Ginny, good idea. Right, Kreacher, we have a few things we want to ask you about. You don't seem to want to talk about your old master Regulus, judging by the hurry you were in to be off. Why?" A shudder seemed to pass through the elf's little body, and he felt a little guilty for speaking so harshly to the pitiful creature, however foul he was, and when he spoke again, it was with a gentler tone. "We just want to know what you know about Regulus. Anything at all."

Kreacher bowed, his eyes filled with loathing, and croaked slowly, "Young dead master used to live in the House of Black, he slept in the bedroom on the third floor, he liked the colour red, he -"

Harry lost his patience again, and cut him off. "Alright, Kreacher, I guess I asked for that. Right - was Regulus Black a Death Eater?" but the elf didn't speak; a tremor shook his little body and he kept his lips tightly shut, glaring at Harry defiantly.

Harry was surprised. A house elf refusing to answer a direct question? Under the nature of a house-elf's bondage, this should be impossible.

"Okay, then," he said slowly. "When did he bring the locket here?" A huge spasm jerked through the elf this time. Harry scratched his ear in confusion. He knew Dobby had managed to disobey the Malfoys a few times - was this just Kreacher's stubbornness? Frowning, he tried again.

"Did he switch sides? Did he turn traitor to Voldemort, or was he always a spy?" By now, Harry knew something was wrong. The elf was twitching and shaking uncontrollably. Why wouldn't, or couldn't, Kreacher answer? He glanced round at Ron, who looked as perplexed as he felt. Ginny was shaking her head in puzzlement, but Hermione was gazing at Kreacher shrewdly.

"Harry, I think he must have been ordered not to give any information away about Regulus and the locket…probably by Regulus himself." Harry felt his brows unknit. Yes, that must be it. House-elves _have_ to answer their master's questions, but if they are bound by an older order…and Regulus was also a pure Black, perhaps that was why Regulus' orders overrode his own?

"Well, that's…annoying," he said, feeling how hugely inadequate those words were to describe his frustration. "Okay, Kreacher, go back to Hogwarts now," he said slightly sharply, ignoring Hermione's disapproving frown. With yet another _Crack!_ Kreacher Disapparated, giving Harry his filthiest glare as he went. Harry barely noticed, slipping off the bed and pacing up and down restlessly. "So, Kreacher obviously knows a lot. There's something more behind this, but I just can't figure out what…why would Regulus take the trouble of making sure his _house-elf_ didn't go spreading his secrets?"

"Seems a bit weird," said Ron, shrugging. "Probably he was just being careful. I guess he didn't want to risk You-Know-Who, like, maybe torturing Kreacher to find out how he found out about his Horcrux." Ginny and Hermione both agreed, happy to leave it there, but Harry still felt there was something he was missing, something nagging at his mind. But there were other things they needed to get on with, and Harry decided to let it go for now.

"Let's write that letter to the Ministry then," he said, decisively and Hermione nodded again, taking the ink and parchment over to a small, rickety writing desk in the corner of the room. Carefully she smoothed the parchment flat before dipping her quill into her inkpot, and lowering the quill to the page. Then she paused. "Who do I address it to? Which Department?"

"Um…no idea - Ron?" said Harry, looking at him. Mr Weasley worked in the Ministry so Ron knew the Departments pretty well.

"Probably the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I think they do stuff about Azkaban, trials, you know," said Ron absentmindedly. The scratching of Hermione's quill filled the small room, and nobody spoke. After less than a minute, she stopped writing, scanned the letter and gave a small nod of satisfaction. Then she handed the parchment to Harry to sign. He read it through, Ron and Ginny peering over his shoulders.

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Dear Sir/Madame,_

_Requesting a meeting with the prisoner Mundungus Fletcher, to discuss personal issues. It would be much appreciated if you would allow me a short visit, with my friends Ronald and Ginevra Weasley and Hermione Granger._

Harry made a small noise of approval. "'Personal issues,' nice and vague, that's good. We don't want Scrimgeour or anyone getting suspicious." He signed the letter and waited for the ink to dry before rolling it up and magically sealing it. Hedwig was asleep in her cage, snowy head tucked under one wing. He crossed the room and prodded her gently.

"Wake up, Hedwig, sorry…I need you to deliver this for me." She poked her head out from under her wing, blinking her large amber eyes at him.

"Take it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic, okay?" he said, stroking her feathered head gently. She gave a soft hoot of understanding, sticking out her leg, and he tied on the scroll. She hopped out of the cage on to his arm, and he carried her over to the window, leaning back as she took off in a flurry of white feathers and soared over the grimy rooftops towards the Ministry.

Hermione was fiddling absentmindedly with the drawer of the writing desk, which appeared to be stuck, while Ron watched her with a would-be-casual expression, though with a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. Harry sat back down next to Ginny, who leant comfortably into him. He took some strands of her long red hair between his fingers and twirled them, muttering teasingly, "Ginevra…I never knew that was your name." Ginny elbowed him. "Don't call me that," she warned. "It's almost as bad as Nymphadora."

Harry smiled, but at that moment was distracted as out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed something that made him jump as though he had received an electric shock. Hermione was still sitting at the writing desk, which now had its drawer hanging open, and from it she was lifting a small, dusty, very familiar square mirror…


	6. A String of Death

Disclaimer: Harry Potter was created by J K Rowling. So few people know this. I thought it could be your little-known fact of the day, so you can impress people at parties.

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Harry crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the mirror from Hermione's startled hand.

"Harry, what – " she began, bewildered, but broke off, looking at him in concern. His chest was suddenly tight and his breathing constricted, as memories of Sirius came crashing over him in waves. That mirror…that damn mirror. Hadn't Sirius given him another just like it, so that they could communicate easily? Without making stupid plans for breaking into the High Inquisitor's warded office, which were bound to go wrong. And he'd not even bothered to open the package, at least not until _after_ Sirius was murdered, and a fat lot of good that had been…The guilt he had felt at his godfather's death, long suppressed, now surged through him afresh leaving him feeling wretched and empty. If he had just opened it he would have been able to find Sirius at Grimmauld Place, without relying on Kreacher. But he hadn't. And now Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault…

"_Harry!" _said Hermione sharply, and he jumped. He had almost forgotten she was there. Looking around he saw them all staring at him, looking perplexed and anxious. Feeling a warm pressure on his hand he looked down at it, to find that Ginny had been holding it comfortingly, which he hadn't noticed. Ron cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, Harry? You feeling all right? What's with the mirror?"

Harry couldn't speak. His chest still felt as though it was clamped in a steel band. Finally, Ron stood up. "Okay, I'm getting Mum." This made Harry come to his senses. It was only a mirror, he told himself firmly. You _aren't _to blame for Sirius' death, he would've left the house at some point anyway…and though this was far from satisfactory, he pushed it out of his mind and taking a deep breath, forced himself to speak.

"This is Sirius' mirror," he said, striving to keep his voice steady. "He – he gave me one, too. It's a two-way mirror; we could've used them to communicate with each other…" he trailed off as he felt his voice shaking slightly. Ron and Hermione didn't seem to notice his agitation.

"Really?" said Hermione, looking very interested. "A two-way mirror? They're ever so rare. Can I have a look at the other one?"

"Uh, no," he admitted, feeling guilty again as she looked surprised and hurt. "I – it broke."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione reproachfully. "You let it break?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't know it was that special," he said defensively, then paused, thinking. "Oh…hang on…yeah, I think the pieces are still in my trunk, somewhere."

Hermione beamed at him, leaping off the bed and dragging out Harry's overstuffed trunk from under the bed. She threw it open and began rummaging in it, throwing aside all the junk that had been amassing in there probably since his first year at Hogwarts. Harry watched her for a bit, smiling slightly, then pulled out his wand from his jeans pocket, pointed it at the trunk and said firmly, "_Accio Sirius' mirror!"_

"Oh, yes," said Hermione, looking embarrassed. "I keep forgetting we can use magic now…Harry, nothing's happened." It was true. No shards of mirror had come zooming out. Harry frowned. He had, in truth, forgotten about the mirror, but now he remembered having felt guilty for breaking Sirius' gift to him, and shoving the pieces back in his trunk.

"That's strange," he said. "Wait, I'll try again…um, _Accio broken mirror?_" There was a disturbance in the trunk, like several small mice fighting to extricate themselves from the jumble of Harry's possessions, and out soared seven pieces of mirror, gleaming dully in the weak sunlight. Hermione eagerly pointed her wand at them, saying "_Reparo!_" and the shards flew together, good as new. Harry idly watched her as she examined the two mirrors closely, throwing the repaired one to Ron so they could test them out, still wondering why they hadn't answered to the Summoning charm as 'Sirius' mirror.' Well, he supposed it technically wasn't his godfather's any more, seeing as he had given the mirror to Harry. Still, it _had_ belonged to Sirius…at that moment, however, he was distracted by Ron's loud, excited voice in his ear.

"Hey, this is so cool! Look, Harry, I can see Hermione in here, and talk to her and everything!" He gazed, fascinated, into the mirror. Harry moved behind him so that he could look over Ron's shoulder. Through the film of dust he could make out Hermione's face – glancing over at her, Harry saw her smiling down into her own mirror at Ron, who blushed, seeming to realise he had been ogling Hermione for about a minute, and hastily laid his own down on the floorboards. Harry almost laughed, but stifled it quickly as Ron coughed, his ears turning red. Smiling to himself, Harry wondered when on earth Ron was going to be able to just go out with Hermione without being awkward and flushing every other second. He supposed it would take some time.

"Harry!" said Ginny suddenly, "There's something stuck to the back of that mirror – look!" She pointed to the underside of Hermione's mirror, where Harry now saw a small square of yellowish parchment. His heart gave a strange jump, and he grabbed at it. It tore.

"Watch it!" exclaimed Ron, knocking his arm out of the way. "It's stuck!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, get it off, it might be…" but Harry fell silent as he watch Hermione picking at the corner of the parchment. He didn't feel like voicing his thoughts aloud.

Hermione seemed to be having difficulty. In the end she picked up her wand, murmured, "_Diffindo!_" and the parchment was ripped from the mirror. It floated downwards and they all dived for it. But Harry, with his Seeker reflexes, got there first. Turning it over, he saw a message written in an elegant hand, though it was scratchy and untidy, as though scrawled in a very great hurry. His heart sank. It was not Sirius' writing. Disappointed, he nevertheless read the note out loud, in a low but clear voice.

_I write this in the hope that it falls into the right hands; I dare not address it in case it does not. For the same reason it is hidden. If you are whom I hope, you will understand the use intended for this mirror. We may not meet again, but I thank you for your loyal servitude, and my friend, if you are brought the tidings of my death, journey at once to Borgin and Burkes, at Knockturn Alley, where it has awhile been my suspicion that another is hidden. Seek a string of death. And if my fortune is fair and I return alive, we shall make this journey together._

Harry finished reading and looked up. Only Ginny looked confused; he could tell from the satisfied looks on Ron and Hermione's faces that they were thinking along the same lines as he was.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence that had followed. "I think we all know who _that's_ from." They all nodded, even Ginny.

Ron scratched his ear. "Yep. Our favourite cryptic messenger. Likes his secrets doesn't he, that Regulus - who's he writing to, d'you reckon?"

"He must've had someone to help him get that locket," said Harry slowly. "Dumbledore said one person couldn't have done it."

"Which means," said Hermione thoughtfully, "someone else knows about the Horcruxes," They all exchanged an uneasy glance, but Ginny suddenly laughed.

"Oh, no – I think I can guess who it is," she said triumphantly. "Kreacher!" There was a collective sigh of enlightenment as everybody realised the reason for Kreacher's forced muteness. Ron gave his sister the thumbs-up. She looked quite pleased with herself. "But I don't understand," she continued, frowning slightly and taking the parchment from his hand. "Harry, what can he mean by the 'string of death'?"

This, however, Harry did not find at all hard to explain; since that terrible Hogsmeade weekend last October, the name Borgin and Burkes always conjured up an image of Katie Bell, writhing and twisting on the ground, a brown paper package beside her, glittering purple visible through a small tear.

"That'll mean that opal necklace," he said confidently. "It was in Borgin and Burkes, I saw it there. Malfoy bought it and gave it to Katie. Oh, wow…you don't suppose it _is_ a Horcrux?" he added, excitement welling in him. But it was also mixed with doubt. He saw his feelings mirrored on Hermione's face.

"I don't know, Harry," she said hesitantly. "It might be…but don't you think Dumbledore would have recognised it as a Horcrux?"

"Well, you can't tell that something's a Horcrux," interrupted Ron. "Can you, Harry? Doesn't it just look exactly the same?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. The diary felt pretty normal…no, hang on, it didn't. I kept feeling like I had to look at it, like I was drawn to it. And so did you, Ginny, didn't you?" she nodded, looking as though she'd rather not talk about that. He moved on hastily.

"Well, and that snake, Nagini, has almost human characteristics, the way she obeys Voldemort and stuff. And you said the locket was really heavy, unnaturally heavy, right, Hermione?" She nodded also. "So," he continued, feeling hopeful again. "Dumbledore _might_ have recognised it, and destroyed it. He never said anything to me though." This was where the doubt came in. Wouldn't Dumbledore have told him?

"Well, anyway," said Hermione briskly, "That's another thing we have to follow up. Do you think that it could be the Ravenclaw Horcrux?"

He hadn't thought of that. Perhaps it _had_ been the founder's necklace. But Ron snorted.

"Why would she wear that if it would kill her? Looks a pretty Dark object to me, more like something from Slytherin. Anyway, I dunno if it's really a Horcrux. Why would it just be stuck in a glass case in a shop for everyone to see?" But he stopped as Hermione threw him an exasperated glance.

"Oh, Ron, if it was Ravenclaw's, it wouldn't have been cursed when _she_ had it. That would be Voldemort's – oh, get a grip – Voldemort's doing. To stop people from touching it and trying to destroy it. As for it being in a shop, sometimes the best places to hide things are right in front of people's eyes. Who would guess? And I asked how much it was, remember? One and a half thousand Galleons! Riddle might have asked Burkes to put it at that price to make it stay there, probably Malfoy only got it in the first place by showing his Dark Mark." Harry was convinced, and it seemed so were the others, for they were both nodding, Ron for once not rolling his eyes at Hermione's cleverness but instead looking rather impressed.

At that moment a loud _pop!_ echoed behind Harry and he jumped to his feet so fast his head spun. He whirled around to find himself face to face with what he thought, for a split second, was some kind of apparition.

Fred and George stood there side by side, beaming at him, hair as offensively red as ever. They were decked in their old favourite dragon-hide jackets, but this time with boots to match, and clashing floppy wizards' hats of a garish orange. Their clothes almost seemed to shimmer and change colour as Harry gazed at them, stunned, and as he looked closer he realised the dragon-hide was now charmed so it seemed as though they were covered in swarms of multicoloured bees. They made his head swim to look at them, and so he blinked, still feeling dazed.

"Um," he said finding his voice, and lowering his wand, which he found he had been holding raised in front of him. "Business going well then?" he said, raising his eyebrows and nodding towards the jackets. The twin's grins grew even wider.

"You bet," said George, fingering the leather lovingly.

"Never better," said Fred. "Anyway, how are you doing, old pal?"

"Not defeated You-Know-Who yet?" added George. Harry blinked, startled, and opened his mouth to speak, though without any idea of what he was going to say. How did the twins know he had to kill Voldemort? It made him uneasy. More and more people seemed to have learnt the truth, when Dumbledore had specifically told him to kept it as quiet as possible.

"I'm surprised at you," said Fred, shaking his head at him sagely. "We reckoned you'd have done it by now.

"How – what – what do you mean?" said Harry quickly, "Why d'you think –"

But Fred interrupted him. "Come off it, Harry, we all know what you're going to have to do eventually. The Chosen One and all that."

Harry felt his face going slightly red. "That's just the _Daily Prophet_," he said hastily, glancing at Ron who raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nah, it's not," said George. "You can trust us, you know, Harry. Besides, we have information from another source other than the_ Prophet_." Harry's stomach lurched. Who else knew about the prophecy?

"Yeah, you don't think we'd just trust that old rag, do you, mate?" said Fred, snorting. "Nope, our informant is none other than –"

"- Our dear younger brother," finished George. Harry's mouth fell open, and he turned to stare at Ron reproachfully.

"W-What?" stammered Ron, his ears turning red. "I never said anything! You know I wouldn't!"

But the twin's faces just split into wide, devilish grins.

"Not knowingly, you wouldn't," said George, kindly.

"But you talk in your sleep," Fred informed him. Ron's face fell, the red now creeping up his neck. "What else did I say?" he said, horrified.

"Not much," George said, sighing in disappointment. "But enough," he added, suddenly serious. "So, you're not going back to Hogwarts then, you three? Are you sure that's wise?"

"You can't say anything, you left early, too!" said Ginny hotly. Fred and George gave her identical, searching glances, then turned to look at Harry, eyes wide.

"You aren't taking her with you?" they said simultaneously, looking appalled. "We figured Ron could look after himself, but –" He never finished what he was saying. Ginny pushed herself off the bed so violently that Hermione was pitched sideways into the hollow in the bedsprings. She stood there, hair swishing over her shoulders and her dark eyes flashing with anger. Harry was reminded uncannily of Mrs Weasley. It seemed so were Fred and George, for they exchanged uneasy glances and tried to speak – but Ginny got there first.

"SO YOU THINK I CAN'T LOOK AFTER MYSELF?" she cried, fury ringing through every syllable. "AFTER ALL THAT I'VE DONE?"

"Ginny -" Fred began, in a pacifying voice, but she rode on, building into a passion.

"AFTER I'VE BEEN POSSESSED BY YOU-KNOW-WHO AND GONE TO THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS AND EVEN HELPED FIGHT A LOAD OF DEATH EATERS AT THE MINISTRY _AND _AT HOGWARTS ONLY A FEW WEEKS AGO AND YOU _STILL_ THINK I'M YOUR LITTLE BABY SISTER?"

"No –" said George, quickly. "But –"

"You haven't done half the stuff that I've done! I'm coming with Harry and that's final. He's agreed, and I'm coming even if he changes his mind, and _nothing_ you two say is going to stop me!" She finished in a quieter tone, but her cheeks still blazed dangerously and her hair seemed more fiery red than ever. Fred and George looked at each other. But before either could open their mouths to speak, a horrible sound ripped through the house from the hall – an all-too-familiar screeching.

"_Filthy blood-traitors, despoiling the house of my fathers…"_

"Oh, dammit," said George, wincing. "Ginny, you woke her up."

Ginny shrugged, unrepentant. "You made me."

"Whatever," Fred said, striding to the door. "We'd better go shut her up – you know, Mum only told us to come up here to tell you that lunch is ready – she didn't want to shout up the stairs because of that old hag."

"_Get out, get out, all you filth, you Mudbloods and foul half-breeds, desecrating the noble house of Black…"_

They hurried downstairs, hands over their ears, reaching the screaming portrait of Sirius' mother just as Mrs Weasley came bursting out of the kitchen looking harried, wisps of hairs straggling all over her forehead.

"Fred! George!" she said, exasperated. "I told you to be _quiet_!" On the last syllable she gave the left-hand curtain a huge tug and with a joint effort they managed to yank the dusty hangings back over the struggling, howling old woman, whose screams became muffled and slowly ceased altogether. Mrs Weasley wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

"What on earth were you screaming about, Ginny? Well, never mind that now," she added, looking all of a sudden very tired, her eyes flicking between Harry and her daughter. "The meal's ready. Be on your best behaviour, you lot, we have guests for dinner. And_ no tricks_," she finished, with a sharp glance at the Fred and George, who looked at her, identical angelic expressions on their faces.

"I mean it," said Mrs Weasley in a stern voice, though seemingly only half-heartedly. Glancing again at Ginny, she turned and led the way back into the kitchen. Harry and Ginny looked at each other. He could see the unease he felt reflected in her eyes. It almost seemed as though Mrs Weasley _knew_ about Ginny's decision to leave Hogwarts.

He had no time to worry about this however, for then they walked through the doorway into the cavernous kitchen, grey and cold still but now awash with light from the now-sparkling windows, all grime and cobwebs scrubbed away, the once grim stone walls covered with cheerful red hangings. It almost reminded Harry of the Gryffindor Common Room, and he stopped and paused for a moment, feeling a twinge of regret for the cosy tower-room and the bunch of Gryffindors he had almost come to regard as family, not to mention the rest of the wonderful old castle, his dormitory, the suits of armour, the Ghosts…at that moment he would have even liked to see Peeves, the annoying Hogwarts poltergeist, once more. But he knew he could not let himself dwell on what had been. That part of his life was over, and he had to accept it. And so he sat down at the long wooden table, which was groaning with food, trying to push all thoughts of Hogwarts out of his mind, when he glanced up only to find himself looking directly at Professor McGonagall.


	7. The Strength of Seven

Disclaimer: The characters are all JKR's. Probably so is half the plot. The rest is mine, all MINE!  
**A/N: This might get a bit sappy near the end. Ye have been warned.**

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For a second, Harry just stared at his old Head of House, now Headmistress of Hogwarts. He hadn't imagined he would meet McGonagall again for a long time, if ever, and setting eyes on her now, so soon, only a few weeks after Dumbledore's death, made all the memories of the funeral and the great white tomb rise up in him afresh. The last time Harry had seen McGonagall, at the funeral, she had been hiding her face in her ugly tartan handkerchief, her shoulders shaking violently as she tried to control her sobs. But now she was as composed and unruffled as ever, though he noticed that her dark hair in its tight bun was now threaded with a few strands of silver, and her already stern face had grown sharper and more severe than ever before.

"Good evening, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, evening, Miss Granger," she said, nodding curtly at them all. "How are you, Potter?" she added in a gentler tone, eyeing him over the top of her spectacles.

"Oh - fine thanks, Professor," he answered automatically, but her mouth thinned sceptically as she scrutinised him. To his relief though, she did not pursue the subject. Harry avoided her gaze as he helped himself to a generous amount of chicken and pumpkin pie. He did not want to talk about Dumbledore.

"Well, I'm sure you three will be glad to hear that Hogwarts is not going to close," McGonagall said briskly, accepting a goblet of Gillywater from Mrs Weasley. "All the Professors will continue teaching and classes shall resume as normal on September the First. We decided that under the circumstances children would need more magical education than usual, especially, of course, in the area of Defence Against the Dark Arts. We are thinking about doubling the number of Defence lessons and cutting down on less important subject areas – Astronomy – Divination – " her mouth curved into a slight smile.

But Harry had no thought of smiling with her. He caught Ron's eye, trepidation creeping over him, knowing that soon he was going to have to tell Mrs Weasley he was not, in fact, going back to Hogwarts. Worse, that he was going to lead her youngest son and only daughter right along the road towards darkness and danger, even death. From the corner of his eye he could see Ginny also sharing a worried glance with Hermione.

"Well?" said McGonagall, sharply. "Is it not good news that the school will remain open?" Harry laid his forkful of pie back onto his plate, all hunger forgotten. Beside him, he felt Ron shift nervously in his seat, and glancing over Harry saw Hermione fidgeting with her hair, her cheeks pink. Ginny was now staring determinedly at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.

"Er," Harry said, and coughed. "Well, you see, Professor, the thing is, I've decided – we've decided –"

"We're not going back to Hogwarts next year," Hermione suddenly blurted out, as though she couldn't help herself, looking wildly at McGonagall, then lost all self-control and buried her face in her hands.

There was a dead silence. Then -

"Not – not go back to Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall said faintly, staring at Hermione in disbelief. But she soon regained her composure, pulling herself up straight in her chair and glaring at them all. "Don't be ridiculous, Miss Granger! You haven't completed your education. And you, Mr Potter – what has become of your ambition to train as an Auror? You have not, I trust, changed your mind?"

"No –" Harry began, without any clear idea of what he was going to say. "I – er -"

"Because you do realise that to fight He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers you are going to need the very highest Defence training that we can offer?" Harry said nothing, his insides squirming with guilt as he felt Mrs Weasley's eyes upon him.

McGonagall's nostrils flared dangerously.

"Potter, I cannot let you leave. Nor you two," she added, looking at Ron and Hermione. "Do you propose to set off after You-Know-Who with only OWLs? No Defence against the Dark Arts NEWT, and no Auror training? Surely you see how preposterous –" but at that moment, George interrupted.

"I think you should listen to them first, Professor," His tone was uncharacteristically respectful but firm and McGonagall, after giving George a very disapproving look, finally gave a terse nod.

"Very well. Explain."

Harry took a deep breath, throwing George a grateful glance, but avoiding the eyes of McGonagall or any of the other adults around the table.

"Right. Well, the thing is," he began, trying to order his thoughts and speak rationally. "There's a lot of - stuff – I haven't told you about, stuff that Dumbledore only told me -" there was an audible intake of breath around the table, but Harry ignored it, ploughing on.

"He made me swear not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione." Professor McGonagall looked slightly offended, and he added hastily, "But, well – basically, the _Daily Prophet_ is right. I have to go after Voldemort. And, er – well, because of what Dumbledore showed me, I have to go after him as soon as possible. Because it's not just a matter of finding him and fighting him. That's all I can say, really," he finished slightly lamely, looking up. The stern lines of McGonagall's face had relaxed into an anxious, even gentle expression. Mr and Mrs Weasley, however, were looking at each other as though their worst fears had been confirmed.

Mrs Weasley spoke, her voice tremulous. "Oh, Harry - we thought – we guessed you would do this…and you too, my Ron - and Hermione." She swallowed visibly, her eyes shining with tears.

"But Ginny - my only daughter - you're going to go too, aren't you?" McGonagall gasped, and opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it again, seemingly speechless with shock. Ginny looked her mother directly in the eye, her jaw set resolutely, looking prepared for whatever argument Mrs Weasley could throw at her.

The next moment, however, her father turned to her and just said, very tiredly, "We won't try to stop you, Ginny," Ginny's eyes widened in amazement and Harry was completely taken aback. He had been prepared for disagreements, shouting, even threats.

"W-What?" he stammered, "You don't mind? And you _knew?_"

"No, we didn't know, Harry," said Mrs Weasley, controlling her tears. "But we guessed. We thought there was probably something behind all this Chosen One business, and well – I suppose we've always thought you were special, that you would be the one to have to face him in the end. And Ginny – she told us in her letters that you had got together, and she seemed so happy –" She broke off, dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

"And then," continued Mr Weasley sadly, "She mentioned you had said you couldn't be with her any more, and though she wouldn't say why, we supposed it would have taken something huge to make you two split up. We know our Ginny," he added with a small laugh. "What she wants, she usually gets."

The atmosphere around the table lightened up considerably as everyone, even Mrs Weasley, chuckled, and Ginny went scarlet.

"So," finished Mr Weasley, "when Ginny came downstairs the other day with that look we knew so well, like she'd got what she wanted again - we figured you'd probably given in," Harry went red, too.

"I – I shouldn't've," he said guiltily, "But, well…"

"I'm not blaming you, Harry," said Mrs Weasley with a small smile. "And anyway, we've had a little talk in case our guesses turned out to be right, and we decided that Ginny knows what's best for her. She's nearly an adult. And after all, Ginny, we think you could be of a lot of use to Harry."

Ginny looked startled, "You do?" she said. They were the first words she had spoken since her father had given his agreement, and Harry could tell she was completely bowled over by her unexpected good fortune.

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley, placing her goblet on the table and leaning forward. "Ginny, listen to me. We've never told you this before because, well, we didn't want you getting ideas. But now you are old enough to take this sensibly, and I think," she said, with a glance at Mr Weasley, who gave her a small nod, "you should probably know now. So you can understand why we're letting you do this." Ginny looked confused, then excited.

"What is it, Mum?" she said, eagerly. "What do you know about me?"

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "Nothing is definite, you must understand that, Ginny, but it is a suspicion that Molly and I have had since you were born. Ginny, do you know what the most powerful magic number is in the world? Your mother must have taught you when you were younger."

Ginny threw half a glance at Harry, who almost laughed. Yes, she and Harry, Ron and Hermione knew only too well what the most powerful magic number was.

"Seven," she said, and her mother nodded.

"Yes, seven. And you see, Ginny, you are our seventh child."

"Ye-es," said Ginny slowly. "I know that."

"And," added Mr Weasley, "You are also the first girl born to the Weasley family for seven generations."

"But, so what? Why is that important?" Ginny said, looking from her father to her mother.

"It's important because it means you were probably born with a very strong magical potency," said McGonagall tersely, looking as though she felt against her better judgement to tell any child impressive things about herself, but Ginny just raised an eyebrow.

"So you're saying that I naturally have strong magical powers because I'm the seventh child and all that?" she said sceptically.

"We weren't sure," said Mrs Weasley gazing at her proudly. "But when you were born we all just expected you to be a boy, because well, all the others were. So we were surprised when you came…and we just knew you were special. Your eyes were always so – intelligent. You learnt to walk and talk more quickly than any child I've ever seen, and you definitely had more magic spilling out of you than your brothers." Ginny looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or blush. Fred, George and Ron all looked offended.

Mr Weasley smiled. "Yes…Molly and I will never forget the broomstick incident. You wouldn't remember it, Ginny, but when you were only two years old, Ron broke Fred's toy broomstick." Fred gave Ron a mock glare, but only half-heartedly; it seemed he was more interested in seeing where this story was leading.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley said, looking fondly at Ron, "Ron was trying to fly this tiny broom holding his teddy bear -" Ron went red to the roots of his hair, glancing in mortification at Professor McGonagall, who was actually smiling.

"Of course, since he wasn't gripping the broom handle, he crashed into the wall, right next to you, Ginny. You were terrified. And the next thing we knew, Ron was screaming and this huge black spider was wriggling in his arms…" Ron shivered in remembrance, and Hermione giggled. Mr Weasley carried on the story.

"Ron thought it had been Fred who did it, since Fred was pretty angry that his broom had snapped, but I'd seen Ginny at the moment the broom hit the wall, and after the first shock, your eyes narrowed, and you were staring right at that bear when it changed." Ginny's eyes were wide, amazed.

"I did that?" she said, her voice incredulous. "I did that when I was two?"

"You did," said her father, smiling.

"So it's _your_ fault I don't – much like spiders, Ginny!" Ron burst out. "I always blamed Fred!"

Fred pretended to look mortally offended. "My fault, little bro? I wish."

"So, anyway," Mr Weasley said hastily, "We knew from then that you had pretty strong powers. Most witches and wizards can't control their magic without a wand until, oh, years later. Most never achieve that, even. Only the very accomplished can perform controlled wandless magic. Dumbledore, or course, and You-Know-Who. Snape can, I think, and Remus. But there aren't many, not many at all." He smiled and Mrs Weasley swelled with pride as she gazed upon her daughter.

But Ginny was looking doubtful. "But, Dad , I haven't – I can't – I don't ever _remember_ doing wandless magic! Why did I stop? Can I still do it?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can do it now, dear, if you try," said Mrs Weasley. "You used to all the time. I don't know why you stopped though," she added, looking slightly worried.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat, his ears going red just as Ron's did when he was embarrassed. "Ah, well my dear, I think I might know why. I never told you because I thought you would probably, um, get a little cross with Ginny…" Mrs Weasley's eyes narrowed.

"What happened, Arthur?" she said sternly, and Ginny looked at him curiously. "Yes, what happened, Dad?" Mr Weasley coughed.

"Ahem – well - the last time I ever saw you do controlled magic without a wand was when you were about six, I think. You had made this old branch fly, and were clinging on to it, rocketing all round the garden, but then you slipped and fell off into the pond. I only looked out of the bedroom window just in time to see the fall, and that old branch shoot away without you. You nearly drowned." He shuddered slightly before continuing. "By the time I'd Apparated over you'd managed to do some more magic, probably uncontrolled, and were out of the water, but you were sobbing and choking and, well, terrified out of your wits. I think that stopped you wanting to do it any more. Maybe you just grew up after that forgetting that you ever could."

Mrs Weasley had gone very pale, "Oh, _Ginny_ - you could have died!" She reached across to hug her daughter, who pulled away, with an embarrassed glance at McGonagall, who had been sitting listening without saying a word.

"_Mum_," she muttered, "I'm fine. That was years and years ago. Actually, I remember it now, I think. Well, partly - I remember being in the pond –" she shivered. "But not how I got there. I'd forgotten it till you said that, Dad."

"Would you try some now?" said Hermione, who had been gazing at Ginny almost in awe. "Try some wandless magic?" Ginny drew a breath shuddery with excitement.

"Oh, _yes_…what should I try?" she said, her eyes gleaming, but was at that moment interrupted by Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Weasley, you are still underage," she said severely, her black brows contracting. "You are not permitted to use magic outside school." Ginny's face fell in disappointment, and Harry spoke up.

"But she's leaving school now – so it surely doesn't matter? And don't we need to know if she can do it? And anyway, Dumbledore told me the Ministry can only detect magic in general, not if it's underage stuff, so if we're with her… " But his teacher gave him a very stern look and Harry trailed off.

"Mr Potter! It is not a question of whether or not you are found out -" McGonagall began, but Ginny cut in, smirking.

"What are you going to do, Professor? Expel me?" Professor McGonagall looked taken aback, seeming unable to think of a good enough answer, and while she hesitated, Mrs Weasley spoke.

"Ginny, I don't want to hear that tone of voice from you again. But Minerva, I think Harry's right. We do need to see if Ginny can do this wandless magic. If she can – if she is powerful enough – oh, I don't want to let her go, but if she can help Harry - I think it is all of our duties to do what is best for him."

McGonagall seemed to struggle with herself inwardly, but finally gave in, giving a terse nod. Ginny rose and hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mum," she said quietly.

"Now, what shall I do?" she asked again, all seriousness forgotten. Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

"Just try a simple charm," said McGonagall quickly. "Nothing too dramatic. If you must do this, we don't want any accidents - try levitating something small. If you concentrate, you shouldn't need the words," she added, as Ginny opened her mouth to say the incantation.

"Oh - all right," said Ginny, and she looked around the room for a suitable object. Finally she took another deep breath and her whole body tensed in effort.

"AAAAARRGGHHHH!" Harry almost jumped out of his skin as a terrified yell sounded right in his ear, and he leapt up from his chair, whipping his wand from his jeans pocket as he turned. He found himself staring in amazement at Ron, who had risen violently from his chair, and was now gripping desperately to the back of it to keep himself from flying up to the ceiling. Harry, Fred, George, and Hermione all burst out laughing.

"Miss Weasley!" shouted McGonagall, furiously, and Mrs Weasley let out an incoherent shriek.

"Oi! Lemme down!" Ron yelled at his sister, legs thrashing wildly in the air and accidently kicking the chandelier, which smashed.

Ginny started to giggle helplessly, losing her concentration as shards of crystal rained down on the kitchen table, and Ron came down with a huge crash on the tiles.

"Oops - s-sorry!" Ginny panted, still doubled up with laughter, and Harry, grinning, stuffed his wand back into his pocket and pulled Ron to his feet. His friend collapsed into his chair, a bemused, dazed expression on his face.

"GINNY!" Mrs Weasley bellowed, finding her voice again, and using it to full effect. "THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY!"

"Not to mention, I specifically told you to keep the magical activity to a minimum!" added McGonagall angrily.

"I just wanted to see if I could," Ginny replied, unfazed. "And I can!" she added, a wicked grin flashing across her face. "Oh, I wish I'd known this sooner."

Mrs Weasley's eyes blazed. "This is exactly why we didn't tell you sooner! I thought you'd be mature enough now not to let it go to your head!"

"Oh, it hasn't gone to my head," said Ginny quickly, flushing. "But it _is_ the first time I've tried it since I was six - I wanted to do something fun. I won't do anything like that again," she added.

"You'd better not," muttered Ron grumpily, rubbing his arm gingerly. "I landed right on my elbow."

"Oh," said Ginny, looking at him slightly repentantly. "Sorry, Ron…I didn't mean to drop you like that. Here, let me try this -" she added, taking Ron's arm in her hand. She concentrated for a second, and the large, rising purple bruise slowly faded. Ron raised his eyebrows at his sister, who smiled triumphantly, and Harry heard McGonagall exhale loudly through her nose in astonishment.

"Well," said Ron, stunned. "If you can do stuff like that, I'm going to _drag_ you with us."

Mrs Weasley sniffed tearfully, her anger forgotten. "Oh, Ginny… we knew if it came to this, we'd have to let you go - but please, my darling, don't do anything reckless. If anything happened to you -" she broke off, seemingly unable to speak, and just embraced her daughter again. This time, Ginny didn't pull away, and Mr Weasley came over and joined the embrace.

Ron looked slightly hurt. He fiddled with his fork in an indifferent manner, but at that moment, his mother let go of Ginny and turned to him, almost knocking him over with the fierceness of her hug. Harry laughed as Ron's ears turned scarlet, his eyes seeking McGonagall, who was pretending to study her plate intently, though the corners of her mouth twitched. Ron looked as though he had changed his mind about wanting attention.

Mrs Weasley hugged Hermione too, then turned to Harry, her eyes again shining with tears. She held him for a long time, pressing him to her heart, and as he breathed in her warm, motherly smell and felt the softness of her robes against his face his chest ached with the weight of the things he wanted to say to her. How she'd always been a mother to him - how much he had to thank her for. His heart was heavy with sorrow and he was overcome with longing. Longing to live a normal life, in a family, without the darkness of a prophecy hanging over him and the terrible knowledge that he was a marked man.

When she finally let go, Harry found to his horror that his eyes were wet, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his sleeve as he sank back into his seat. For a while nobody spoke, each one of them lost in their own thoughts.

The creaking of the front door, however, roused the company from the sad, pensive mood that had sunk over them, and a heart-shaped, almost elfin face popped round the door, hair sticking up in spikes like a weird pink porcupine. Tonks grinned cheerfully at them all.

"Hey, everybody!" she said brightly. "Wotcher, Harry," she added, beaming at him.

"You seem happy," said Mr Weasley, smiling at her as he pulled out a chair. "Have you seen Remus lately?"

"You read my mind," Tonks laughed. "Yes, I saw him last night." A mischievous grin flickered briefly over her face.

"How is he?" asked McGonagall sharply.

"Oh, fine," Tonks said happily, accepting a goblet of pumpkin juice from Mrs Weasley. "Yes, he's very well. He only Apparated over quickly to see me, he stayed for a while," that wicked grin popped back for a second, and Harry wondered if she were hiding something, before she continued, "He had to go back quite soon though, so he wouldn't be missed. But it seems he's convinced Greyback and the others that he was fighting on their side."

Harry felt as though a weight of anxiety in his chest had just been Vanished away. If Lupin had really managed to persuade the werewolves, then perhaps there was hope. Maybe he wouldn't be found out and torn to pieces after all. Harry breathed a sigh of relief that made Ginny's hair next to him flutter, and heard several similar sighs ripple round the table.

"And," began Tonks, her cheeks turning the same colour of pink as her hair and her eyes sparkling as she drew a deep breath, evidently unable to keep her secret any longer, "Last night, Remus proposed to me."

Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley all squealed. Harry gaped, not believing his ears. But a huge, happy bubble seemed to rise in his chest at the news, and he beamed at Tonks, who winked back. Fred and George jumped up to wring Tonks' hand in congratulations.

"Oh, Tonks!" said Professor McGonagall, looking quite overcome. "He really did?"

"Yep," she replied, her blue eyes dancing with light. "About time, too," she added with a heartfelt laugh.

"Well, I'm sure we all offer you our warmest wishes for the future," said Mr Weasley, sincerely, smiling, and Tonks looked over at him, more serious now.

"Yes - I hope everything will turn out all right," she said, almost sombrely. "We are both doing dangerous work, Remus more than any of us. And the Ministry are still after all the werewolves." Behind the light of happiness in her eyes, Harry could see lurking a shadow of fear.

"Yes, Tonks," said McGonagall, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. "But you must remember that Remus is a skilled wizard, you are hardly a target of the Death Eaters, and after all, all we can do is hope."

Tonks nodded, though suddenly, illuminated by the light cast by the torches on the walls, she looked very young. "Thanks, Minerva," she said quietly. "You're right. We wouldn't be anywhere without hope." And she lifted her goblet of pumpkin juice. "To Remus!" she said, smiling again, and everybody followed suit.

"To Remus, and to you, and to all your future years together," corrected Mr Weasley, raising his Butterbeer to his lips.

"And to hope," added Hermione quietly.

"To hope," the company repeated, draining their goblets as one.


	8. Apparition and Old Ghosts

Disclaimer: I am just meddling with JKR's wonderful creations…

Now that they had to prepare for a double wedding, things were suddenly a lot more complicated. Mrs Weasley could be seen rushing up and down the stairs, muttering distractedly about invitations and transport and accommodation arrangements. Although the day of the ceremony (four days time) was still going to be the same, all the wedding plans had to be changed at the last minute. Originally they had intended to hold it at the Burrow - according to Hermione, wizards were traditionally married at the family home of either the bride or the groom. But everyone knew Lupin was still a wanted man, and parading him at a wedding for all to see was probably not the best idea. After sending a long, urgent message by owl to Fleur's parents and getting an even longer one back, Mrs Weasley announced to their delight that they had decided to have the wedding at Fleur's home in France.

"It's much easier, really," she explained breathlessly, as she buttered them all toast one morning. "There was never really enough room at the Burrow for all our relations - Arthur and I were thinking we'd have to put a temporary Engorgement Charm on the house. But now, what with all Tonks' friends and relations, we'd never manage it."

"Whereabouts in France?" asked Harry, curiously. He had never been abroad before, the Dursleys always having left him to stay with their neighbour Mrs Figg, or Aunt Petunia's snobbish friend, Yvonne.

"Bordeaux," said Mrs Weasley, as she bustled around the kitchen, pulling down recipe books from shelves and flicking through them absentmindedly. "Fleur's family have a large mansion there, far more suitable. We should have thought of it in the first place." She smiled at Harry." It'll be lovely. Now, I must go and see if the material for the bridesmaids' dresses has arrived yet..." and she bustled off.

"You're still being bridesmaid, then?" Harry asked Ginny, who scowled.

"Yeah, me and dear Gabr-r-r-iel," she said, prancing around the room with an exaggerated affected expression. Harry and Ron laughed, though Hermione frowned reprovingly.

"She's not _that_ bad, Ginny," she said, then appeared to change her mind. "Well, a little pretentious, maybe, but nothing too -"

"You've seen her then?" interrupted Harry. "She's been here?"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny nodded.

"A few days before you came," said Hermione. "Bill and Fleur came to talk about wedding arrangements, and they brought her along."

"Right little pain she is, too," added Ron. "Wouldn't stop talking about you, mate. You shouldn't've saved her from the lake that time. Hey, Ginny, you'd better watch out - you've got a rival!"

Harry laughed as Ginny huffed and encircled his waist protectively with her arm. He had pulled Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, out of the Hogwart's lake in his fourth year, as part of the Triwizard Tournament, a wizarding competition he had taken part in. Idly Harry wondered what she was like now.

"We have to wear these stupid dresses," Ginny said grumpily. "Phlegm insisted on this weird light gold colour. I'm going to look like a human-sized _fairy_ in it."

Harry smiled. Ginny never wore dresses. When she was not in her witches' robes, she unfailingly wore very casual outfits; tight jeans and bright T-shirts. Harry had seen her in dress-robes once before, at the Yule Ball, though as her robes had been second-hand and quite shabby he hadn't really noticed them at the time.

"Oh, I don't know," he said lightly, ignoring Ron's raised eyebrows. "You'd probably look quite nice as a fairy." Ginny perked up slightly at this.

"Well, all I need is a tiara and some wings and I can make it into a fancy-dress wedding!" she said brightly.

"Great idea, little sis," came a voice from the doorway. Fred and George had just entered the kitchen. They slid into seats around the large table.

"Yeah, how about this, do you reckon?" said George, flicking his wand. Instantly, the twins were dressed in huge, swirling black robes, and their faces grew eerily white. They also both sprouted fangs, dripping large amounts of blood down their chins. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"You don't like our dead vampire look, then, Hermione?" Fred said, changing back into himself with another deft flick of his wand.

"Well...the spell was pretty clever," she said grudgingly. "But I hardly think -"

"Ah, Hermione, they don't need to do anything for fancy-dress," said Harry. "They can just go as themselves...everyone would find them funny..." he ducked, grinning, as Fred threw a piece of toast at his head.

"Bill and Fleur are coming down soon," said George, reaching for a roll. "I'm sure Fleur eez dying to zee you, 'Arry." Harry frisbeed the piece of toast back at him, then paused, realising he'd forgotten to ask after Bill, who'd been savaged by Greyback just over a month ago.

"Er - how's Bill?" he asked Ron awkwardly. Though Greyback hadn't been in werewolf form when he attacked Bill, Harry knew Bill was still a damaged man, and he wasn't sure how Ron - or any of the Weasleys - was taking it.

"Bill's not bad," Ron said, though his expression was unreadable. "He's pretty much normal, but at the full moon it's difficult for him -"

"He doesn't transform, does he?" asked Harry, in surprise.

"No-o, not exactly." said Ron slowly. "But, well, he told us he feels almost like a wolf in a human body." Ginny was gazing sadly at the crust of her toast, not seeming to really see it. Ron continued. "He said he had to lock himself in his room the first time the full moon came, to stop himself from attacking Fleur...he kind of said it like it didn't matter, but I dunno...it can't be great..." and he trailed off, looking disturbed. Harry wished he'd never said anything.

"Er," he said awkwardly, not really knowing what he was going to say. "Well - at least he doesn't transform..."

"And it's only once a month, after all," said Hermione, comfortingly. Ron nodded, looking slightly more cheerful, and Fred and George got up briskly, waving their wands so that their plates flew into the stone sink and began busily cleaning themselves.

Mrs Weasley popped her head round the door. "Could you lot come upstairs for a minute? You need to try on your wedding outfits. Walk _quietly_," she reminded, and they tiptoed past the portrait of Sirius' mother, which fortunately remained asleep, up to Hermione's bedroom where Mrs Weasley had laid out all the dress robes.

Harry held up the ones Mrs Weasley had got him. They were a soft, light blue, cut in a fashionable way so the sleeves and hem hung loosely and elegantly. In his opinion they looked incredibly stupid, but Ron, Hermione, Fred and George all had similar robes, so he decided not to say anything. Fred, however, gazed at his in horror, blurting out, "Mum - what is _that_?"

Mrs Weasley sighed. "Fleur's family want everyone in blue, and the same style French robes...it's how they do it there," she added snappily. "And since they're letting us use their house for the wedding, you'd better not complain."

The twins snorted, but didn't argue. Experience had evidently taught them that picking a fight with their mum when she was in a bad temper was not an agreeable experience.

"Oh, and Harry, I think you'd better look in at Hedwig," Mrs Weasley added, folding up the robes carefully. "She was hooting in your room when I was up here just now."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. If Hedwig was back, she'd have an answer from the Ministry of Magic about the visit to Azkaban.

They excused themselves as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion and made their way to Harry and Ron's room. Hedwig was perched on Harry's bedpost, clicking her beak in pleasure as she saw him. Harry hurried over to her, taking her on to his arm and untying the scroll of yellow parchment from her leg. She nibbled his earlobe affectionately, and Harry took her over to her cage, opening the door so she could get inside and have a drink and some owl treats.

"What's it say?" said Ron in a low voice, glancing at the door. Hermione shut it, and Harry unfurled the parchment, carrying it over to the window so it was illuminated by the pale morning light.

_Dear Mr Potter and friends _(he read)

_We would be delighted to have you visit Azkaban. Certainly you may pay a visit to Mr Fletcher. If you meet me at the Ministry Entrance Hall at 11.00 next Monday, the 21st of August, I shall be more than happy to escort you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin (Second Class), Auror of the First Division, High Judge of the Wizengamot._

Harry frowned and the others all gasped.

"Scrimgeour?" said Ron, in surprise.

"But how did he get hold of the letter?" Hermione asked, then answered herself, "The person who received it must have shown it to him..." She trailed off thoughtfully. Harry reread the letter, his disgust growing every second.

"'_More than happy to escort me,'_" he said savagely. "I'll bet he is. He'd been trying to find out what Dumbledore was up to and now he's doing it to me."

"Well, let him come, I say," said Hermione, and they all looked over at her in surprise. "We can tell him it's about family issues," she continued serenely. "It's the best chance we have of talking to Mundungus, and we'd better not throw it away." Harry couldn't argue with that, but privately he thought that Scrimgeour would do his best to find a way of listening in.

"Well, all right," he said. "We'll just have to find a way of communicating to him what we want to know about the locket, without Scrimgeour hearing...that fine with everyone?" he added, and Ron and Ginny nodded, though they both looked doubtful. But the clang of the doorbell downstairs and the resultant shrieks from the portrait floating upstairs stopped any further conversation. Harry hastily grabbed a spare piece of parchment, scribbling an answer in the affirmative to Scrimgeour, and sent Hedwig off again. She gave him a reproachful look out of her large amber eyes as she spread her wings, and he followed Ron, Hermione and Ginny down the stairs feeling slightly guilty for asking her to go off again so soon.

"'Arry!" The throaty cry echoed up the stairs, and the next moment Harry found himself being crushed to the bosom of a very beautiful young woman, whose silvery hair cascaded to her waist. "Eet ees so nice to see you again, 'Arry!"

"Er - yeah, hi Fleur," he muttered, feeling his cheeks flame with embarrassment as he saw Ron and Hermione struck with silent fits of the giggles. He disentangled himself as politely as he could, and saw Bill standing just behind Fleur. The scars on his face had not faded and he was definitely not the same, handsome man he had once been. But he was smiling, and Harry could tell that his personality had not changed.

"Gabby ees so 'appy that you will be zere at our wedding, 'Arry," Fleur told him, taking him by the hand and leading him into the kitchen. Hermione giggled.

"Right," Harry said awkwardly. What could he say about a girl he'd only seen once in his life, albeit in that time he had saved her from the clutches of wild mer-people who inhabited the lake. Luckily, at that moment Mrs Weasley came over with a tray of tea and biscuits and the conversation moved on.

"Are we going to see Tonks and Remus before the day?" Mr Weasley asked his eldest son.

"I think they're too busy getting ready," said Bill. "They only decided to get married yesterday, after all. And what with you insisting on having the ceremony together, Mum…"

Mrs Weasley looked annoyed. "Does no one think it was a good idea?" she said snappily. "Unless you would have preferred to prepare for two separate weddings. In these times one is dangerous enough -" her hand flew to her mouth.

"Dangerous?" purred Fleur, smiling. "Why, what could zere possibly be zat ees dangerous at a wedding, Molly? She sipped her drink delicately, looking unconcerned.

"Oh, nothing," Mrs Weasley said hastily. "Here, have a biscuit, Fleur…"

But all the others seemed to have guessed what Mrs Weasley had been thinking. Bill was biting his lower lip, and Fred and George looked uncharacteristically sober. Harry suddenly realised that Mrs Weasley was right. The Death Eaters were out to make the wizarding world entirely pure-blooded, and they targeted Muggleborns and blood-traitors. Tonks, a member of one of the oldest wizarding families, already disowned since her father was a Muggle, marrying Remus Lupin, a traitor to the werewolves and once friend to Sirius Black and James Potter, would definitely be seen as disloyal to the wizarding race. And the Weasleys, all blood-traitors…if Bill married Fleur, who was part Veela, they would possibly be another target. Harry's insides twisted uncomfortably. But then;

"Is your family home Unplottable, Fleur?" asked Hermione.

"But of course," said Fleur, looking surprised. "Ze Delacour mansion ees so large, we do not want Muggles wandering in by mistake! And also my grandmuzzer wished zat her family would not be able to find her. She was a Veela, and ze rest of her family, zey were not very pleased zat she wanted to marry a wizard."

Mrs Weasley gave a small sigh of relief, and Harry felt his stomach unclench. Death Eaters shouldn't be able to find an Unplottable building. They would just have to watch out after they were married.

"We're probably worrying over nothing," said Mr Weasley. "I doubt that anybody we have not told ourselves knows of the wedding. Tonks obviously doesn't want it widely publicised that's she's marrying Remus, since the Ministry are still wasting their time trying to find him."

Everyone nodded, rather more reassured. Fleur still looked as though she didn't see what all the fuss was about. Her attention was all on Bill as she gazed at him adoringly through her large, nearly-violet eyes.

"Oh - Ron, Harry," said Mr Weasley suddenly. "I nearly forgot - your Apparition test is booked for tomorrow. We wanted you to be able to Apparate to Bordeaux, since the Ministry would probably notice if we tried to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

Ron looked apprehensive at the thought of trying to Apparate to France - he'd had particular difficulty with Apparition lessons - but Harry wasn't particularly worried. He'd managed to Apparate illegally quite a lot last year, when he had been with Dumbledore.

"Okay," he said. "Where's the test going to be?"

"Hogsmeade," said Mrs Weasley, as she bustled around the huge kitchen, and began to make lunch. Harry and Ron looked at each other, surprised. Hogmeade was right up North, near Hogwarts, and it took nearly a whole day's travelling on the school train to get there from London.

"We're going all the way to _Hogsmeade _for the test?" said Harry, bewildered. "Why?"

"Well, traditionally all Apparition tests are held there," said Mr Weasley. "Since it's the only all-wizard village in Britain, if there are any accidents, Muggles won't notice."

"Won't we have to Apparate to get there in time tomorrow, though?" said Ron, sniggering.

"No," Mrs Weasley said absent-mindedly. "We've got permission to set up a Portkey to get you there. It's at eight o' clock tomorrow morning, so you two had better get up early." Ron groaned.

"How am I getting to the wedding?" asked Ginny. "I can't Apparate yet."

"We'll have to do Side-Along Apparition," said Mr Weasley. "It's only supposed to be used in emergencies, but as they're watching the Floo Network for Death Eaters and we can't use a Portkey, it's the best way to get there unnoticed. We don't want to alert the Ministry that we're going to a wedding, or they'll probably find Remus."

The next day dawned sunny and bright. The thin ray of early morning sunshine across Harry's closed eyelids caused him to wake. Getting up, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, gazing out at the grey houses opposite, which looked unusually pretty with the rooftops glowing with warm light and a long line of purple-tinted trees swaying in the distance. With a little difficulty he opened the stiff window, and the delightful scent of summer air laced with apple blossom wafted into the room. He let it drift over him, feeling at that moment at peace with the world. It was hard to believe that Voldemort and his followers were out there killing and destroying and taking over everywhere.

A noise behind him made him jump and turn round, and he saw that Hedwig had returned. She clicked her beak at him in greeting as her walked over and gently stroked her snowy head. _So that's it then, _Harry thought -the message had been sent to the Minister, and Scrimgeour was going to come with them to Azkaban. Harry knew he would never be able to get on with the interfering, officious Ministry, and he whole-heartedly sympathized with Dumbledore, who had been forced to put up with their endless questions about his doings.

He walked over to shake Ron awake. All he got for his efforts was a muffled groan as Ron yawned into his pillow.

"Apparition test today, mate," Harry said brightly. Ron appeared not to have heard him, then all of a sudden sank further under the bedclothes. A mumbled, "I'm going to fail again…" came from beneath the duvet.

"Well, you're not going to have any chance of passing if you don't get up," said Harry unsympathetically, pulling back the bedclothes and rolling Ron onto the floor.

"All right, all right, I'm up," grumbled Ron, getting to his feet and dusting off his paisley pyjamas. "You'll turn into Mum if you're not careful. I'd better not leave my eyebrow behind this time, anyway..." Ron had failed his test in March when he managed to Apparate every part of his body, except half an eyebrow.

They dressed quickly and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was already making breakfast.

"Oh, you're up," she said. "That's good, I was just coming to wake you. Have some toast, both of you. I would fry a bit of bacon but it's probably best you don't Apparate on a full stomach." Ron had gone slightly green, and Harry punched him comfortingly on the arm.

"You'll be fine," he said, hoping it was true. "You nearly did it last time, so you'll be even better this time. Just hold on to your eyebrows," he added, grinning. Ron shot him a dirty glance. They finished their toast in silence. Harry wasn't particularly bothered about the test, since he knew he could Apparate -this was just to make it legal for him to do so. Instead of worrying about the test, Harry mused on what he would do once he could Apparate. They had planned to go to Godric's Hollow, the village where James and Lily Potter had lived. Harry had a yearning deep inside him to visit his parents' graves and to see the place where he had spent the first happy year of his life.

Mrs Weasley was looking around the kitchen for a suitable object. "This'll do," she said, picking up a large silver platter, the Black family crest embossed on the base. She touched her wand lightly to its centre and said, "_Portus._" For a second the platter glowed bright blue and Harry could see it vibrating slightly.

"Feeling all right?" said Mrs Weasley with a smile. Harry nodded, though Ron just let out a sort of nervous grunt.

"All right then. Go now, quickly - and good luck!" They placed their hands on the platter.

Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel and they were off, whirling amidst a rush of colour and sound. A few seconds later, his trainers came into contact with hard ground and he staggered, but kept his feet.

"Ah, good morning, boys!" a wheezy voice welcomed them. Turning round, Harry saw the familiar wrinkled face of Wilkie Twycross, his Apparition instructor at Hogwarts.

"You are ready?" the little man said, taking the platter and motioning them over to a spot just outside Honeydukes, the sweetshop. Ron looked alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly, and tripped twice over his own feet as he stumbled to the spot Twycross pointed him to.

"I would like you to Apparate to Scrivenshafts. You both know where that is?" They nodded. "On the count of three then."

Ron shifted nervously, beads of sweat on his forehead. Harry could see him screwing up his face in concentration.

"One, two…three!"

They turned on the spot, Harry thinking as hard as he could about Scrivenshafts, letting his body pull away from the earth into thin air, and next moment, felt the usual, unpleasant sensation of being compressed in a very small tube, before he felt firm ground beneath him, and gasping, looked around to find himself directly outside the quill shop. He heard a faint popping sound and glanced around to see Ron hurrying over to him. He appeared to have gone past Scrivenshafts to the next shop.

A second pop, and Twycross stood next to them. "Ah, very good, boys!" Ron looked apprehensive, but Twycross didn't seem to have noticed that Ron hadn't in fact appeared in the right place. Harry was thankful that the shop couldn't be seen from Honeydukes. Ron looked even more relieved, but was evidently trying not to let it show on his face. Harry grinned as he saw Ron feeling his eyebrows anxiously to check they were both there.

"Well, here are your certificates," said Twycross, meticulously signing two large purple pieces of paper before handing them to them. "And your Portkey," he added, giving Ron the platter and smiling. "You won't need it any more."

But they didn't Apparate straight back to the Burrow. Harry had a better idea.

"While we're so close, why don't we visit Hagrid?" he suggested, and Ron agreed enthusiastically.

"We'll have to use the Honeydukes passage to get into the castle, though, the gates'll be locked," said Harry thoughtfully, and he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. Dumbledore had requested him to take it wherever he went, and at moments like this Harry was glad that he still did so.

"We'll have to put this on," he said, throwing it over himself and Ron. "It'll be much harder getting down to the cellar without lots of students there distracting the owners."

So they crept into the sweetshop, which Harry had never seen before when it wasn't crammed with Hogwarts students. The owners were chatting to an incredibly ugly warlock, and Harry and Ron managed to tiptoe past them and down to the cellar without too much difficulty. Moments later they had thrown off the cloak and were running down the long, familiar earthen passageway and into Hogwarts.

After about twenty minutes of hurrying down the passageway they came to the point when it began to rise, and they climbed out carefully from the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry threw the Cloak back around them, unsure if Filch stayed at Hogwarts during the summer.

For a while, both of them just stood there as the memories of six action packed years crashed over them. There had been good times and terrible times, but Hogwarts was one of the few places Harry had always felt safe. Though it was strange and lonesome knowing that Albus Dumbledore was no longer Head of the school, aways there watching over his students and smiling serenely.

For a while, Harry almost wished he had not come back. The nostalgia was suffocating, and more than ever he wished he could just stay here for his seventh year, stay with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean in the dormitory, keep captaining Quidditch, eat in the Great Hall surrounded by people he'd known since he was eleven...to his horror he felt tears beginning to prick behind his eyes. Grateful for the Cloak which hid him, he hastily nudged Ron and whispered, "We'd better get going, we still need to find a way out." For of course the front doors would be locked.

They moved as fast as they could under the Cloak down to the ground floor. Harry pulled out his wand, tapped the nearest window that looked out onto the grounds and said in a low voice, "_Alohomora!" _The lock of the window clicked, and Ron pushed it open silently. Everything went smoothly, until they began climbing through. They were relieved to be getting out of the castle (Harry had felt discomfited creeping around in the deserted corridors, feeling like a spy or a thief) but a loud _miaow_ sounded suddenly behind them and Harry jumped in panic, the Cloak slipping off him as he went for his wand. Mrs Norris, the caretaker Filch's foul cat, had crept up behind him. She stared at him for the briefest second out of her large, dirty-yellow eyes before whipping around and streaking out of the Great Hall, undoubtedly to fetch her master.

Harry hurriedly clambered out out to join Ron in the grounds, slamming the window shut and muttering, "_Colloforis!" _The lock sealed itself with a small squelching sound and Harry dived under the Cloak just as Argus Filch appeared at the window, jowls wobbling suspiciously as he peered out at the grounds. Harry and Ron froze, hearts in their mouths, watching Filch, who stood there for a long time testing the window-lock, before turning and examining the area around. But he seemed to decide it was a false alarm, for they saw him turn and walk away, Mrs Norris prowling behind him.

They breathed again, and hurried off to Hagrid's hut, which had been inexpertly repaired. The night of Dumbledore's death the hut had been set on fire by a Death Eater, and the blackened wood had been chopped out and none-too-skilfully replaced. But the thin line of smoke trickling out from the chimney showed them that Hagrid was still living there.

Harry took off the Cloak, shoved it in his pocket, and knocked on the door, calling, "Hagrid, it's us!" To his surprise he could hear voices, and he wondered who would be in the hut with Hagrid.

The door flew open, and Hagrid towered there, filling the doorway and looking surprised but delighted.

"You two! What are yeh doin' here? Hermione's here as well!"

"Hermione?" said Harry and Ron together, as Hagrid motioned them in. Fang rushed over to them and began happily licking them both, his whole body wriggling with delight. Hermione rose from the chair she had been sitting in, looking bewildered.

"Harry, Ron - why are you here? I thought you were doing your Apparition test!"

"Done it," said Ron loftily, producing the certificate with a flourish. Hermione looked stunned, then beamed and hugged him. "Oh, well done, Ron! You passed too, Harry?"

He nodded. "Yeah, then we thought we'd come visit Hagrid. But what about you, Hermione? Why -"

"Oh, I Apparated up to take some books out of the library," said Hermione. "For our lessons, you know." She indicated to a large pile of books on the floor. "I asked Professor McGonagall and she said it was fine, she opened the school up for me."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "So, the front doors were unlocked?" Ron said casually. "And the gate?" Hermione nodded.

"Why - how did you get in?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Never mind," said Harry hastily. He knew Hermione wouldn't have approved of them sneaking in and out of Hogwarts through secret passages and windows. "We found a different entrance," he added vaguely as she raised an eyebrow, and sat down in one of Hagrid's huge wooden chairs, accepting the cup of strong dandelion tea offered him.

"So, how's yer summer been, all o' yeh?" asked Hagrid, passing round some rock cakes, which they politely declined, saying they'd just had breakfast. They'd had enough experience of Hagrid's rock cakes to know they were true to their name.

"Oh, all right," said Ron, gulping his tea. "It's Bill's wedding on Thursday."

"Yeh'll see me there, Ron," said Hagrid, smiling. "Wouldn't miss out on yer brother's big day fer anythin'. And how're yeh gettin' on with - yeh-know-what, Harry?" he added in a low voice, as though Death Eaters were listening in. Harry lowered his teacup in surprise.

"What do you mean?" he said quickly. "What - what have you been told?"

"Nothin' much," said Hagrid, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But Minerva said yeh three weren't comin' back ter Hogwarts next year, an' I reckon this all this Chosen One stuff that the _Prophet_ keeps spoutin' mightn't be too far off the mark, eh, Harry?"

Harry said nothing. More and more people were starting to learn the truth, or at least part of it, and it made him uneasy. Dumbledore had told him, after all, to keep it quiet, yet it was leaking out in dribs and drabs and at this rate, Voldemort was going to guess the truth. He might even ensure that his Horcruxes were even more impossible to find. Harry silently cursed the _Prophet_.

"Harry," came Hagrid's voice, gently. "It's a rough time for yeh. Yeh shouldn't have ter do this, but it looks like yeh've bin singled out, an' tha's always hard. But yeh can do it, Harry, I know yeh can."

And Harry looked into Hagrid's warm, beetle-black eyes and smiled. It lightened his heart to know that Hagrid trusted him so.

"Yeah...reckon yeh'll do all righ'," Hagrid continued, reaching over the table to pat Harry on the back, knocking him forwards so that he spilt his tea all over the table. "Knew Tom Riddle at Hogwarts an' all, and yeh're just as powerful as he ever was."

Somehow Harry doubted this, knowing that Hagrid looked at him through rose-tinted vision. But Hagrid's faith in him made him feel slightly more optimistic about what lay ahead of him.

"What was Riddle like at school, Hagrid?" ashed Hermione. Harry glanced at her, unsure if it was wise to talk about Riddle to Hagrid, since it had been he who had got Hagrid framed and expelled in his third year. But though Hagrid's face darkened for a second at the memory, he seemed not to mind talking about it with them.

"Yeh wouldn'ta known what he was goin' ter become," he began quietly. "Always polite ter teachers, always top o' the class...but there were some nasty things which happened, mind, which I reckon he was behind. One Hufflepuff, Geraldine McKinnon, she argued with him in her first year - always a reckless one, she was - an' a few hours later she disappeared an' was found, couple o' days after, locked in one o' the dungeons they didn't use...she wouldn't tell anyone how it really happened. And, o' course, Myrtle Goglum was killed when he opened the Chamber." They all nodded, knowing her, or rather her ghost, quite well. Moaning Myrtle inhabited a girl's toilet and was incessantly gloomy.

"Yeah," said Hagrid soberly. "Pity...she weren't the mos' cheerful one, but very smart - though tha's not surprisin', is it?"

"Why not?" asked Hermione.

Hagrid looked surprised. "Eh? Yeh don't know what she was?" They shook their heads.

"Oh...thought yeh woulda heard 'bout it. Thought she mighta told yeh all them times yeh went visitin' her -"

"We didn't go to visit her!" said Harry, embarrassed. "How do you know we know her, anyway, Hagrid?" He'd never told Hagrid about the times he'd spoken to Myrtle, mostly because they had all been at times when he was doing something he shouldn't have been - making secret Polyjuice Potion in the girls' toilets, trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets, going to the Prefects' bathroom in the middle of the night (the memory of suddenly realising Myrtle had been sitting on a tap watching him during his bath still haunted Harry).

"Ah, well, she comes ter see me sometimes when I go up ter the castle," said Hagrid, smiling. "I'm the only one o' her old classmates left in the school now, yeh see, so she likes a chat now an' then...likes ter talk about how she died, mostly, but there yeh go. Each ter their own, an' if tha's what makes her happy... hear a lot about yeh though, Harry...reckon Ginny mighta got competition, eh?"

Harry elbowed him good-naturedly. "Yeah, she did tell me I could share her toilet if I died in the Chamber," he said, grinning. "But what's so special about her anyway?"

"Well, don' reckon many people know 'bout this, she kep' it pretty quiet since she didn't really have much in the way o' friends at Hogwarts, but she told me one time I was up at the castle tha' she was actually the las' descendant of Ravenclaw."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all gasped in shock.

"_Myrtle?" _said Ron incredulously. "Myrtle, Ravenclaw's heir? No way..."

"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Reckon she wasn' lying, neither. She was a pureblood, see? Only one o' all them as was attacked. So there shouldn'ta bin any reason fer Riddle ter set that Basilisk on her. She used ter wear this necklace, too - really old it was - made all out o' some precious stone. But she said ter me tha' it was stolen when she died. Pretty upset she was 'bout it, too." Hagrid shook his head sadly. "I dunno, killing her then robbin' her body as well...Well, s'pose this is Yeh-Know-Who we're talkin' about... but see, tha' necklace was likely the last survivin' relic o' Ravenclaw."

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to _Jana Holmes_ for correcting the date of the visit to Azkaban! Originally it was to be on the 1st of August, which of course is the day after Harry's birthday...which by this point is already a few days behind him! Lol!**


	9. A Wizard Wedding

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not belonging to me...he is being owned by J K Rowling.

* * *

For a while Harry just sat there, stunned. So the opal necklace had belonged to Moaning Myrtle...he still couldn't get his head around the idea that the sulky, miserable ghost had been Ravenclaw's heir. He had talked to Myrtle about her death before - she had been more than happy to do so - but once she had confirmed his suspicions that the monster Slytherin's heir had been setting on students was a Basilisk, Harry had not bothered to find out any more. 

Hagrid, of course, was still unaware that they believed the necklace to be a Horcrux, seeing as Harry had never even told him Voldemort's secret. Harry was still trying to keep it as closely guarded as possible; also, he did not want to worry Hagrid.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, shaking his shaggy head again. "Myrtle had her trinket nicked an' came back ter try an' find it. She reckon'd Olive Hornby took it, see, since Olive was the firs' to see her after she died. Followed her roun' fer months, tryin' ter get it back. Never tol' anyone, she was a smart girl, Myrtle - knew if Olive ever foun' out why she was followin' her, she'd mos' likely hide that necklace even better, jus' ter spite her. Never did like Olive, meself...but nah, Myrtle never did get it back. An' the Ministry got her ter stop hauntin' Olive, in the end. Reckon I'm the only one as knows the real reason she had fer comin' back as a ghost...o' course, it musta been Tom as really took it, but she wouldn't never b'lieve me if I told her tha' - she always admired Riddle, yeh know."

Ron let out a great snort of laughter, the thought of Myrtle liking the young Voldemort in that way evidently too much for him, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. Hagrid had never, to Harry's knowledge, actually seen the necklace that had cursed Katie Bell last year, so he wouldn't have recognised it as Myrtle's. Yet Harry knew how much Dumbledore had trusted Hagrid, and now he wondered if Dumbledore had ever told Hagrid what he had done with the necklace. But how to ask Hagrid without making him suspicious? Harry knew he had to follow up any possible clues he could find.

"Hagrid," he said reluctantly, but trying to keep his voice casual. Hagrid looked at him at once, concern in his beetle-black eyes.

"Somethin' the matter, Harry?"

Hagrid knew him far too well.

"Well, yes," Harry said slowly, wondering where to begin. He still didn't want Hagrid to know about the Horcruxes. Not because he didn't trust Hagrid - he knew the man would die before he deliberately gave away confidences - but he also knew, from experience, that Hagrid sometimes accidentally let things slip.

"Er, Hagrid? Can I ask you something, if you don't ask me why I want to know?"

Hagrid looked surprised and slightly hurt, but answered readily enough, "O' course yeh can, Harry."

"D'you know what Dumbledore did with that necklace, the one that cursed Katie Bell?"

Harry could see the light dawn in Hagrid's eyes as he linked together the conversation about Myrtle and this question, but true to his word, he did not ask.

"Sorry, he never told me tha', Harry," Hagrid said apologetically, looking disappointed he couldn't help. "S'pose he musta destroyed it - doubt he woulda wanted a dangerous thing like that hangin' around."

Hope lifted in Harry's heart. If Dumbledore really had destroyed the necklace without realising what it was, that only left two more Horcruxes to find: the cup and the snake, Nagini. But Hermione doused his hopes with a look that said as clearly as words "We can't just take that as fact, Harry." She was right, too, he mused. Harry realised that he had been far too eager to believe her, and, disappointed that they would still have to find out exactly what had happened to the necklace, he rose.

"We'd better get back," he said. "Thanks, Hagrid - you've really helped."

"Well, tha's good," said Hagrid bemusedly. "Wha' exactly did I help with?"

Harry smiled and hugged the giant man around the waist. "Never mind. It's been great seeing you, anyway."

Ron and Hermione rose too, Hermione picking up all the books from the library and stuffing them into her bag.

"See you at the wedding, Hagrid!" she said brightly, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, smiling. "Still can't b'lieve Bill's gonna be married...remember him when he was jus' a tiny firs' year here at Hogwarts. Be Charlie next then, hey?"

Ron grinned. "Maybe. He came back from Romania for the summer but we haven't seen much of him - he's very busy showing Flavia round London, apparently - taken enough time to show her round half of Europe..."

Hagrid chuckled as Harry asked curiously, "Who's Flavia?"

"This girl he brought back from Romania," Ron said, smirking.

"She's nice," added Hermione. "Better than Fleur, at any rate. You'll see her at the wedding,"

Harry nodded. He was glad that people could still find love even in these dark times, and he thought wistfully of Ginny. If only they could be together...but he knew that any relationship with her would have to wait until after the war, if he even managed to make it through alive. A loud jingling distracted him from his dark thoughts, and he saw Hagrid pulling out a huge bunch of rusty keys of all shapes and sizes from a drawer.

"C'mon then," said Hagrid. "Gotter lock up after yeh've gone."

So they trooped out of the grounds, making their way to the front gates, which were flanked by winged boars. It was a longer distance from the castle than it looked, and it took them a good ten minutes to get there. They all gave Hagrid one last hug and then the giant swung the massive iron gates back into place with an almighty clang. "Well, see yeh in a couple o' days," he said, smiling, as he inserted the largest, knobbliest key of all into the keyhole. It turned with a horrible screeching sound, and the lock shuddered violently; without warning it exploded into white flames - Hermione gasped - and threw out such a blinding light Harry had to shut his eyes. Evidently the key had activated McGonagall's spells on the gates. As the flames didn't seem to be getting any less for the time being, Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved, squinting at the hulking outline of Hagrid through the dazzling glow of brightness, before turning together on the spot and Disapparating.

* * *

Before they knew it, the wedding day was upon them. That morning, Grimmauld Place was a beehive of activity; people kept colliding in doorways as they rushed around trying to get ready. As Harry changed into his French-style dressrobes, feeling stupider than ever, he could hear Ginny in the room above having an argument with Mrs Weasley - apparently she really didn't feel pale gold was her thing. Ron and Harry laughed as they felt a battle royal coming on between Mrs Weasley and her daughter. 

But half an hour later, Ginny had lost and was standing grumpily in the front room wearing a very pretty, floaty dress with bad grace, though Harry thought she looked wonderful, swathed in the glimmering golden material, and he told her so. She snorted in reply, and Harry gave up, grinning.

"Come on, come on, we're going to be late at this rate!" Mrs Weasley came hurrying into the room, hastily sticking hairpins into the neat knot of hair at the back of her neck, which she had charmed to fall in curls. Harry had to work very hard to restrain himself from cracking up with laughter when he saw Fred, George, and Mr Weasley join them, all dressed in the same elegant, pale blue dressrobes. The twins looked especially weird out of their habitual dragonskin jackets, but Harry, looking down at his own attire, decided to keep his mouth shut. Hermione was the only one whose dressrobes suited her; they reminded Harry of the ones she had worn at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

"Right, you lot, Marguerite sent a picture of their house - just look at it for a bit before you Disapparate, we don't want to lose any of you now, so make sure you know where you're going. Aim for that spot below the hill - it's rude to Apparate right outside someone's front door."

The mansion in the photo looked enormous, and very stylish, and Harry gazed at the white marble and twisting pillars in surprise, only having realised at this moment quite what a noble family Fleur came from - the mansion was nearly akin to a palace. Around him he felt everyone beginning to move, preparing to Apparate, and so he straightened up, focusing on the photograph and letting his desire to get there flow through him as he turned.

Hurtling through a narrow tunnel, his breath squeezed out of him - the journey was taking forever - Harry finally felt his feet slam into the ground and he staggered, suddenly finding that his knees were weak and he was feeling exhausted. Fred and George were already there and they supported him, looking worn out themselves, as the rest of the company joined them. Ron immediately flopped on to the ground, shading his face with his hand from the blazing sun.

"Hey, that's amazing!" said Ginny, letting go of her father's arm, which she had been clutching for the Side-Along Apparition. "I've never Apparated before!" She bounced happily over to Harry, who was wondering how on earth the girl could have so much energy after Apparating so far. He still felt like he had run a ten-mile race. But he had got his breath back now, and was starting to appreciate the beauty of the area around him. It was completely silent apart from the rustling of their robes, a deep, lonely silence, and as he breathed in the delicious air Harry felt as though nothing could ever really disturb the peace in this place. He savoured the sweet, spicy scent seeming to waft from the wild pink flowers twining around the many slender beeches dotting the landscape, and behind it Harry could almost taste the faint tang of the sea. Ginny stood beside him, and they drank in the glorious scenery together, watching a lone gull soar through the cloudless blue sky.

"Ron! Get up at once, you'll get grass-stains all over your dressrobes," said Mrs Weasley sharply, flapping her hands at him and waking Harry and Ginny from their reverie.

"Yeah, and that'll make them look _really _stupid," muttered Ron under his breath as he reluctantly dragged himself up from the soft grass, and glaring darkly at his silky blue robes.

They began to make their way up the hill towards the massive house, which stood alone on the hill, dominating the land around. It seemed to Harry even more magnificent than in the photo, its gleaming marble reflecting the golden sunlight as it towered above them, and reminded him almost of a Greek temple.

"Molly! Arthur! Is zat you?" A distant cry came from the house and Harry saw a figure sweep gracefully from the front door and begin to float - or that's what it looked like to Harry - towards them.

"Marguerite," said Mrs Weasley, smiling as the tall, elegant woman reached the group. Harry needed no introduction to guess this was Fleur's mother, for their faces were very similar - the same high cheekbones, finely chiselled nose and full mouth. The long blonde hair was also identical to Fleur's, shining eerily silver even in the bright sunlight.

"And you, of course, are 'Arry Potter!" Marguerite extended a gracious hand, and Harry shook it. But there was no more time for introductions for at that moment a stifled squeal sounded from above them and Harry, looking wildly towards the source of the noise, saw the petite form of a girl with clouds of wispy hair standing on the doorstep. Harry remembered Gabrielle well from the encounter in the Hogwarts lake, but hadn't been quite prepared to see the little child he had rescued grown into such a beautiful young girl. As they reached the top of the hill and began to climb the steps to the front door, Harry got the strangest urge to leave Ginny and go over to Gabrielle...why was he holding Ginny's hand? He let go, formulating vague plans for impressing the beautiful girl with such fine, delicate features standing before him - perhaps he should tell her about the rest of the Triwizard Tournament, how he'd fought his way through the maze and past a dragon, to win the glittering Triwizard Cup...but as he opened his mouth to speak, another image came unbidden into his mind; that of the Cup gleaming on the stand in the closed darkness of the tall hedges, with the shadowed face of Cedric Diggory staring at him over the rim.

What was he thinking? He hadn't won the Tournament at all. _It should have been Cedric's. _Harry shook his head to clear it of the confused jumble of feelings towards Gabrielle and guilt at Cedric's death, at the same time as Ginny prodded him sharply in the side, reminding him exactly who he was supposed to be in love with. Harry's came back to earth with a jolt, and suddenly found he could look at Gabby without her charm working on him any more. Gabby was part-Veela, like Fleur, and part of the power of Veela is to be able to magically attract men-folk to them. Gabby had obviously realised that Harry had overcome her attempt to get him to fall in love with her for a barely perceptible scowl flickered across her pretty face before she replaced it with a forced smile.

"It is nice to meet you, 'Arry," she said, her voice deep and husky. Hermione chuckled quietly, and Harry felt himself go red - it was bad enough that Gabby was infatuated with him without her putting on voices she obviously considered attractive. Her mother also seemed to notice, for she glanced at her daughter sharply before saying loudly, "Gabrielle, you are sick, _non?_ You 'ave a bad throat?" Gabby scowled more obviously this time, before replying in a normal voice, "_Non, ma mère, _my throat is very fine, thank you."

"Good! Well, why are we standing 'ere on ze doorstep? You all must come in..." and so they walked carefully one by one through the great arched door, into the welcome shade, and for a second all paused in the huge hall, taken aback by the enormity and beauty of the place. Ron and Ginny seemed especially in awe - their entire house, the Burrow, could have easily fitted into one of the many rooms branching off the hallway. The whole place was gleaming, shadows cast in soft purple and the many torches hung from stylish brackets throwing out a pale, shimmering light that made the cool white marble glow like the moon. They had little time to stop and stare, however, for when they walked in, people had immediately started popping their heads out of doors and descending the wide, sweeping staircase to meet them. There were a few people Harry knew - McGonagall, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and of course, Hagrid, who beamed and waved at them, people being knocked out of his way as he waded through the hundreds of Fleur's relatives filling the hallway.

"All righ', Harry?" he said, patting genially him on the back with such force Harry staggered into Hermione, who caught him. After that Harry was kept busy for a while as he met Tonks' parents, who were still young and just as good-natured and cheerful as their daughter. In fact, Tonks' relations seemed to be everywhere - she had as large a family as Fleur, and they all wanted to shake Harry's hand. He was reminded irresistibly of the first time he had encountered other wizards, in the Leaky Cauldron inn six years ago - everyone in the pub had wanted to meet him then, too.

He spent a good half an hour being introduced to all of Fleur's many relatives, and met her father, Christophe, a tall man with - to Harry's surprise, for he had almost become accustomed to all the blond hair - dark brown curls and a long, droopy moustache

"Ah, Harry Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you at last," Christophe said, pronouncing his words correctly, though very slowly and with great care, as he nodded at Harry in greeting. His face looked as though it rarely smiled, though it wasn't grim - it was as though he just took everything extremely seriously. Harry, nodded back awkwardly, finding it difficult to look at Christophe directly. The man had very strange, vague eyes, which made Harry feel as though he wasn't really being looked at at all. He was quite relieved when Christophe wandered off to introduce himself to Ron and Hermione, and Harry was just shaking hands with yet another woman with long blonde hair - Fleur's cousin, or something - when he saw another familiar face emerge from the end of the hallway.

"Hi, Charlie! How are you?"

"Harry! Yeah, I'm great thanks - Bill asked me to be best man, you know," said Charlie, making his way over. "Harry, meet Flavia." A small woman stepped out from behind Charlie, shaking back her long dark locks over her shoulders as she moved forwards. She was little but vivacious, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy as she parted smiling lips to say hello. She spoke such perfect English that Harry would never have guessed she was Romanian if he hadn't already been told.

"Charlie has told me much about you," Flavia said, laughing. "I have heard of all your brave deeds at school - you had a very exciting life at Hogwarts, eh?"

"Yeah, we did," said Harry, smiling back. Flavia seemed easygoing and likeable - Ginny gave Harry a look which he knew meant something along the lines of, 'see - compare Fleur to her!" Well, thought Harry, they both seemed good women - he knew that Fleur was really quite warm sometimes, underneath her aloof exterior.

"Where are Bill and Fleur? And Tonks and Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked Charlie.

"Upstairs, getting ready," he answered. "Flavia was giving Tonks and Fleur a hand with their dresses. I don't think they're going to come down until the ceremony begins - that's the tradition, anyway."

A while later all the hundreds of guests were seated outside in the front garden supplied with tall glasses of iced pumpkin-juice, and odd, light French wafers that melted as soon as Harry bit into them. Mrs Weasley had wanted to help in the kitchen, but was assured by the entire Delacour family that there were more than enough house elves to do the jobs required.

"When is the actual wedding going to happen?" Harry muttered to Hermione after what felt like several hours of polite conversation between the adults, mostly comprising embarrassing stories about Bill and Fleur when they were children.

"This afternoon, I think," Hermione whispered back. "Fleur has to do all her make-up and fix her hair," she added, rolling her eyes, and Harry chuckled, glad that Ginny was not the sort to fuss with dresses and fancy hairdos.

"...and zen, if you will believe it, my Fleur stole Christophe's wand and tried to hex poor baby Gabby...but she was 'olding ze wand ze wrong way round and ze next thing we knew, Fleur had grown all zese long tentacles from her ears!"

The stories were mildly entertaining at first but after hearing several dozen of them, Harry found himself bored out of his mind and longing to get out of the garden chair and start doing something - he felt he was just wasting his time here. Beside him he saw Ron sink into his chair, eyes half closed. At last, after what seemed an age, Marguerite stood up, patting her dress carefully.

"My Fleur should be ready now - and of course, dear Bill and Remus and Nymphadora. Ze wedding should start very soon - if you would all like to make your way to ze back of ze house? Christophe, you show zem ze way, I will go and check on my daughter..." and she glided back inside as they rose. Christophe led the way around the huge house - it took a long time - and when they rounded the last corner, Harry was momentarily lost for words. He didn't know what he had been expecting - white flowers maybe, and a priest, but certainly not this. The ground seemed to sparkle for miles, and looking down Harry realised the grass had been enchanted so that it glittered and shone. It was also covered in trails of bright streamers which were drifting down from the sky. Harry absentmindedly picked a pretty yellow one out of Ginny's hair as he gazed around, stunned.

"Wow," he said stupidly to Ron, finding his voice as he watched the biggest fountain he had ever seen spouting hundreds of jets of water in all colours of the rainbow into a basin the size of a dining-room. "What is _that?_"

"Oh, you've never been to a wizarding wedding before, have you?" said Ron. "I love these things," he added, motioning at the fountain. "It shoots out all different drinks, see...people can hire them for parties and stuff."

Harry moved closer to the fountain, noticing all the crystal glasses balanced on the rim of the basin. He followed Ron's example and stuck one under a random jet of turquoise liquid - it tasted a bit like minty bubblegum. He and Ron had fun for a while trying out several different spouts, before turning their attention to the many other things surrounding them. Colourful flowers were spilling out from baskets suspended magically from thin air - their long swaying leaves trailed down and got tangled in the hair of anyone who walked under them.

"I'd better go to the doors," said Ginny to Harry. "I have to walk behind Bill and the rest of them when they come out, I'll see you later." Harry nodded and she walked away, her silky gold dress shining as it caught the sunlight.

People had begun milling around, talking and laughing, and loud, cheerful music had sprung up from nowhere - looking around Harry found its source - a large group of men and women with the Delacour trademark silver-blonde hair playing a variety of strange instruments Harry had never seen before. Flavia was standing by one of them, taking a three-horned, curly pipe from the hands of one of the players and examining it with great interest. But at that moment, the player hurriedly snatched it back and joined in with the sudden crescendo, a triumphant ta-ta-ta-TA! as the back doors were thrown open and four people stood framed in the doorway, Remus Lupin and Tonks, Bill and Fleur, the afternoon sun flooding their faces with light.

Mr and Mrs Weasley and Fleur's parents were standing either side of them, on the top of the flight of steps which led down to the garden, and now they stood back to let the two couples pass, Bill and Fleur leading the way, a beautiful tiara made of twisted gold crowning Fleur's mane of silvery hair. Harry chuckled as he saw Tonks, her hair still bright pink and wearing beautiful rosy dressrobes of some soft, clinging material to match, stumble down one step and Lupin stoop almost imperceptibly to steady her. He looked quite practised at it, thought Harry, grinning. Lupin was going to have a hard time coping with Tonks' clumsiness. But right now Lupin looked aglow with happiness, the lines of age almost wiped away as his face broke into a smile of pure joy, his eyes sparkling as he laughed. At that moment he looked ten years younger, and Harry felt a sudden affectionate surge of gladness that Lupin had at last found love, after so much sorrow and hardship. Harry saw Ginny and Gabby, their matching gold dresses rippling like water in the slight breeze, join the small procession and felt his heart give an odd leap in his chest. Ginny may have hated her dress but Harry thought she looked beautiful, with several delicate yellow flowers woven into her hair, which was shining deep auburn in the glory of the sun.

Everyone had shuffled around, to clear a pathway that had been formed along the garden and along this path the two couples sailed hand-in-hand, making their way to a large circle etched onto the shimmering grass. Harry looked at it curiously. It seemed a perfectly ordinary circle, made of flattened grass, but when the brides and grooms stepped onto it, white fire suddenly streamed from the edges, forming a blazing rope which danced around them, burning fiercely even in the bright daylight. The music spiralled to what was almost a song, a declaration of joy and unity and love.

At that moment Mrs Weasley and Marguerite Delacour spoke together, in rather trembly voices which had been magically amplified so they sounded above the music, "Bill, Fleur, raise your wands." Fleur tossed back her long hair and held up her arm strongly and proudly. Bill's scarred face cracked into a loving smile as he looked at Fleur and lifted his wand too.

"Remus, Tonks, raise your wands," said Mr Weasley and Christophe, and the couple did so easily and smoothly, gazing into each other's eyes.

Then all the parents spoke together, quietly. "Do you vow to take each other as husband and wife?"

As one, four voices replied, "We vow."

And with one movement Lupin and Tonks, Bill and Fleur, brought their wands forward to touch their partners', and as the tips met, white light instantly exploded from all the wands, shattering the air around them and encasing each couple in a shining orb. Wands still raised and joined, thin threads of light binding the wands together in twisting coils, the newly-weds moved towards each other and kissed. Mrs Weasley was crying openly onto Marguerite's shoulder, and beside Harry, happy tears were also running down Hermione's cheeks. Harry was overwhelmed with the flood of feelings which surged through him - joy, and goodwill, and true gladness for them all.

Then BANG! Harry jumped, startled, as without warning the globes burst and for a second the brides and grooms seemed to be clothed in robes of white fire, which swirled about them like water. These shimmered and faded, and the next moment bright rings were sparkling on all their fingers. The couples broke away from the kisses and lowered their wands. The next few minutes were a confused rush of embraces and tears and laughter, and Harry moved forward in his turn to congratulate the two new wives and husbands, all of whom seemed aflame with pure happiness.

"Soon I'll be an old married wife, eh, Harry?" grinned Tonks, winking at Harry as she nestled into Lupin's shoulder, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks lit with the flush of love. Lupin ruffled her pink hair affectionately.

"I doubt you'll ever grow old, Tonks," Harry returned, and they all joined in the good-natured teasing which followed.

"So what'cha going to call yourself now then, Tonks?" said Ron interestedly. "Since your name should be Nymphadora Lupin now." Tonks' face screwed up thoughtfully as she contemplated her new name.

"I like the Lupin bit," she said, sliding her arm around Lupin's waist and smiling up at him. "But I don't think I should use it - not till they get rid of that stupid law anyway, since the Ministry's still after you, Remus. Or they might just work out I know where you are!"

"You think?" said Lupin, in mock seriousness, and they all chuckled.

"How about you just add Lupin to the end of your name, like Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin?" said Hermione practically. "Then you'd still have Tonks in your name."

"Well, I might just make it Nymphadora Lupin and everyone can still call me Tonks," said Tonks, shrugging. "It's easier. And I can just not tell anyone at the Ministry about the change. No-one needs to know - yet, anyway."

They were interrupted by a loud chiming, and looked around to see Charlie standing on the fountain's edge, tapping one of the crystal glasses with his wand to get everyone's attention.

"Afternoon, everybody!" Charlie called out cheerfully. "Well - that's it! The marriage is over – and we have four new husbands and wives running around. Wish them all the greatest happiness, everyone, and let us hope with all our hearts that their love will see them through and beyond this war!" These potentially sobering words were spoken with such ringing conviction and good faith that the huge garden broke out in a storm of clapping and cheers.

"So, my eldest brother Bill is now a married man!" Charlie continued, grinning, raising his voice above the noise. "And I remember when he was a pesky seven year old reading _Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle _comics and always trying to hide my toy broomstick. Ah, I forgive you for that and, well, Bill my brother, Fleur my new sister, have a wonderful life!" He lifted his wand to his forehead in a mock salute and deftly threw two crystal glasses of some sparkling blue drink to the newly-weds, who caught them easily, laughing as the bright liquid splashed over their hands.

"And Remus, Tonks, I can't say how glad I am to finally see you two together," said Charlie, looking over to them with a wide smile.

"Neither can I," joked Tonks as she prodded Lupin playfully. "I thought he'd never ask!" A ripple of laughter swept the grounds as Lupin smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, we're all still stunned that you did so at last, Remus," Charlie said, his eyes twinkling. "Though you might regret it when you find you're spending your days repairing everything Tonks breaks -" he ducked, laughing, as Tonks sent a stream of purple sparks at his face with her wand.

"All right, all right, I'll stop - best wishes, both of you, for all of your lives!" And he stuck a glass under a shining spout of crimson wine, threw back his head, and drank to them.

As though this was a signal, the clapping burst out again and there was a rush as everyone moved forwards to grab drinks. Harry caught a glimpse of Lupin kissing Tonks again, all his reserve cast aside, when all at once a bright jet of clear water shot from the very top of the fountain, and suddenly a huge rainbow was shimmering in the air as the sun blazed through the spray. Harry felt the cool droplets lightly sprinkle his face as he, Ron, and Hermione filled their glasses and toasted the newly-weds, wishing them all the happiness in the world.

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**A/N: Yay! I got there at last - Mamacita-san knows how much I struggled with this pesky chapter, thanks for all the help :-)**

**And a huge thanks for all the reviews so far; without them, this story would probably have died a rather boring death around chapter two.**


	10. Of Dark and Creeping Things

Disclaimer: Erm, FANfiction-dot-net! Okay, okay, JK Rowling created Harry Potter, yadda yadda yadda…

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The wedding celebrations lasted through night and well into the next morning. As evening drew near and the guests started to shiver in the fast-cooling night air, Madame Delacour invited them all inside the mansion, which was so huge that even containing over a hundred guests it hardly felt crowded at all. Snacks and drinks were set on small tables in all the rooms, replenished regularly by beaming, bowing House Elves. The crisp French wine was so good that after a couple of glasses Harry even managed to forget how stupid he felt in his floaty blue dressrobes as he moved among the guests, chatting and laughing with them all. He had been determined to enjoy this wedding to the full, as he knew it would probably be the last fun event in his life for a while. As the party drew to a close, Harry was sitting in a comfortable, high-backed armchair half-listening sleepily to Tonks and Lupin's conversation from where they sat close by. Ron was sprawled inelegantly across a chaise-longue next to them, throwing honey-coated peanuts into the air and catching them lazily in his mouth. 

"But do you really have to, Remus? I just don't want you to get hurt, or killed – and this is avoidable." Harry, who had been sinking drowsily into his chair for the last half-hour now looked curiously over at Lupin and Tonks, who looked worryingly grave for their first wedding night together.

"Tonks, I assure you I am not at all eager to go back. But two days are all I ask. If Sullius isn't persuaded by then, I'll leave it." At that moment, Lupin looked over at Harry, and smiled when he noticed Harry's eyes were open.

"Go back? To the werewolves?" asked Harry, a cold feeling of dread creeping slowly through his wine-induced relaxed mood. He suddenly felt fully awake. Ron, on the other hand, appeared blissfully unaware of the conversation as he lay with eyes half-closed, crunching yet another peanut.

"Yes…" said Lupin. "Now that Tonks and I are married, of course, I am not going to stay with them any more. My efforts are proving almost futile anyway – but I have all but convinced one of them to leave Fenrir's group, I am certain that a little more persuasion would bring him over to our side. Surely it would be a pity to abandon him now? Dumbledore asked me to do my best, and I can't just give this up. I owe it to Dumbledore," he finished, looking at Tonks soberly. Harry understood Lupin's feelings perfectly, if reluctantly, and it seemed Tonks did too, for although the characteristic sparkle in her black eyes had died and her heart-shaped face was rather pale, she squeezed Lupin's hand in agreement.

"Well, if you must," she said quietly. "Just – just be careful, Remus!" She looked as though she wanted to say more, but not in front of Harry, who felt distinctly awkward and cast around quickly for an excuse to leave. But just then, there was a loud choking, spluttering sound beside them and the little group all turned to find Ron going purple in the face and energetically thumping his own throat with his palm. Harry leapt up in alarm, but Lupin just pointed his wand quickly and wordlessly at Ron's throat, and Ron heaved in a lungful of air, his airway unblocked.

"Sorry!" he gasped. "Breathed in a peanut…" and he grabbed a glass of water and gulped some down. Harry, Lupin and Tonks all chuckled.

"Teach you not to do this, then," said Lupin, expertly flicking seven peanuts into his mouth in quick succession.

"Well, maybe we should make a move," said Tonks, a shadow of the unhappiness returning to her face, though she made an obvious effort to hide it.

"All righ', all o' yeh?" Hagrid appeared behind, red in the face from too much wine and a happy smile plastered across face. "Molly reckons we oughter be makin' our way back, lotta the guests got work tomorrer – today, rather."

"Of course," said Lupin, standing and helping Tonks up. "I have work myself to do," he added, and Harry saw Tonks pause for only the slightest moment, meeting Lupin's eyes before giving a tiny, reluctant nod of her head.

"What, work righ' after yer wedding day? Keen, aren't yeh?" chuckled Hagrid, completely oblivious to the silent communication going on between the two of them, and he left them to look for the rest of their company.

"Just two days, Tonks," murmured Lupin, laying his hand on her arm. Tonks sighed, then forced a smile.

"I know," she said quietly. "I'm just being horribly selfish. And if you can persuade this Sullius person to leave Voldemort, I'll be a very proud – wife." The last word left her mouth awkwardly and Tonks looked as though she was tasting the sound of it.

"I'm a wife," she said, grinning. Harry, Ron and Lupin all laughed. "You'll get used to it," said Lupin, eyes twinkling. "Though I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to you being _my_ wife." He seemed to have forgotten Harry and Ron's presence as he smiled at Tonks, and she beamed back.

Mr and Mrs Weasley came up to them at this point and Harry and Ron exchanged relieved looks – Harry certainly didn't want to be caught in the middle of any slushy sentimental scenes between the two newly-weds.

"All ready to go?" said Mrs Weasley. Her magically curled hair was coming down from its neat knot and she had a hairpin stuck in her collar, but she looked overflowing with happiness and pride. "Charlie and Flavia are coming to stay at Grimmauld for a while," she said in a low voice. "And where are Fred and George?"

"Over there," said Ron, pointing to the far side of the huge dining-room. The twins were bent over a table, around which a small group of blonde-haired girls were clustered. Mrs Weasley bustled over, and Harry heard the girls tinkling laughs as Fred and George straightened up, Fred's face bright violet, George's acid-green. As Harry watched, grinning, Fred removed a small pill-like object from his left ear – his face slowly returned to normal – and deposited it into George's. Ron snorted with laughter next to Harry, and the girls broke into applause – now George's face was half-green, half-purple, the two colours running down his neck and disappearing into his robes. The twins bowed low and Fred began tossing the small pills to the girls, who all started pushing them eagerly into their ears, shrieking with laughter and pointing at each others' faces as they turned turquoise, orange, crimson, and a multitude of other colours.

Harry watched as Mrs Weasley reached the group, expecting her to start shouting at her sons, but she just smiled good-naturedly and chivvied Fred and George away. The girls waved after them, looking like a bunch of Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans on legs.

"Hope they take them out soon," muttered Fred to Harry when he reached him. "We didn't tell them, the colour tends to stick for ages if they leave it in too long."

"Why didn't you tell them?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"Don't speak French," shrugged Fred, though there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Mrs Weasley now led Ginny and Hermione over, who were both yawning.

"Bill and Fleur are staying here for the night, then they're going to Thailand for their honeymoon!" Mrs Weasley told everyone, her cheeks glowing with happiness. "I'm going to find Charlie and Flavia then we'll be off."

"They're outside," said George. "Ahem - just taking a walk, of course," he added innocently as Mrs Weasley looked suspiciously outside the patio doors at the dark garden, then hurried outside, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

"Where are you going for your honeymoon?" said Hermione, turning to Tonks.

"Oh, we've decided not to go anywhere," said Tonks casually. Hermione looked shocked, and Tonks quickly explained. "We both have too much to do for the Order, and besides, I need to carry on with work as normal, seeing as no-one there knows I'm married now."

Hermione looked sympathetic but Tonks just shrugged, not seeming at all put out. "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "As long as I'm with Remus, I'm happy!" Lupin looked rather flattered.

Mrs Weasley returned at that point, a sheepish-looking Charlie following her, his bright-red hair oddly messy. Flavia, behind him, was also rather pink in the face but her lips kept curving into a smile and her eyes were dancing with suppressed mirth.

Hagrid stumped over to say goodbye and Harry, Ron and Hermione all hugged him – he was staying in France for while so he could visit Madame Maxime, the headmistress of the French school of magic, Beauxbatons. Then came the long task of saying goodbye to every one of Fleur's relatives, in particular Christophe, Marguerite and Gabrielle. Gabrielle offered her hand graciously to Harry, her face composed and looking very beautiful though her fingers trembled in Harry's awkward grasp.

"I 'ope I will see you anuzzer time, 'Arry," she said, curtseying elegantly, her long silver hair sweeping nearly to the floor as she inclined her head. Harry nodded back, feeling stupid; he could see the amused look Hermione threw in his direction. But, luckily, most of the guests seemed to at last have finished wishing Bill, Fleur, Lupin and Tonks good luck and goodbye and with one last handshake and smile for a blonde-haired woman, Mr Weasley took hold of Ginny's hand, preparing to Apparate with her. Harry's head was starting to ache a little from the late night, the chatter, and the wine, and he was quite glad to leave the great marble mansion behind as he focussed his mind on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place and Disapparated.

As he appeared out of thin air in the dining room of Sirius' old house, Harry found himself once more exhausted from the long journey, and barely registering the 'goodnight' from Mrs Weasley, he dragged himself upstairs and into bed, Ron slouching tiredly behind him. Harry still had a headache from the wine he had drunk and he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, forgetting even to take off his glasses. That night, Harry's dreams were filled with confused images of rings shining on dozens of hands, fountains shooting multi-coloured drinks in every direction, and hundreds of blonde-haired Veela with green and purple faces flying Comet Two-Sixties…

* * *

Harry was suffocating – he was drowning – cold wetness had pervaded his dream and he choked, gasping, as his eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up at Ginny, freezing water trickling inside his pyjamas and down his spine like the path of an icy finger. Ginny was standing there clutching an empty bucket and was doubled up with laughter at the look on his face. 

"W-what did you do that for?" spluttered Harry, still rigid with shock. From across the room Harry heard a splash and a startled yell, and looking over he saw Ron sat bolt upright in bed, red hair plastered to his forehead, and water running in rivulets down his face, upon which was stamped an expression of mixed confusion and horror. Hermione was stood by the bed, smiling mischievously, also clutching a large, empty bucket.

"We thought you needed a wake-up call," explained Ginny, turning her bucket upside down and perching herself neatly upon it.

"What the – why did you - couldn't you just have shaken us?" Ron said, his teeth chattering, and Harry wrung a thin stream of water from his sopping wet pyjama sleeve onto the floor.

"We tried," said Hermione. "We shook you, pulled the covers off, yelled your names…you didn't even twitch. You had far too much wine," she added severely to Ron, who looked over at Harry and raised his eyebrows at him in mock disbelief. The effects of the shock starting to wear off, it was at this moment that Harry realised his head was pounding, and he groaned, slumping back onto his pillows and closing his eyes, ignoring the water which seeped from his hair into his ears. He was too wet already to care.

"Oh, no you don't," said Ginny firmly, grabbing his arm and yanking him off the bed with surprising strength. Harry fell onto the floor but he didn't bother to get up.

"We didn't go to all that effort to have you go back to sleep," said Hermione. "Besides, you need to get up now, remember what day it is?"

"Er," said Harry stupidly, to the floor. "Monday?"

"Yes, and it's the twenty-first of August, silly," said Ginny impatiently, and Harry opened one eyelid slowly so he could look at her, waiting for an explanation for why this should mean anything to him. Hermione and Ginny both rolled their eyes.

"We're going to Azkaban with Scrimgeour today, remember?" said Hermione, looking as though she was curbing her impatience with difficulty.

Azkaban…Scrimgeour…the words crept slowly past the large, throbbing lump that was Harry's headache and he remembered – of course, they had to see Mundungus today – and perhaps find out what had happened to the golden locket which had been in this house and was almost certainly a Horcrux. What was he doing, lying on the floor when there was such important work to be done? Harry get up hastily, ignoring his pounding head as best he could, and reached for his wand. He dried himself off with a quick Heating Charm before telling Hermione and Ginny to go away while he and Ron got dressed.

"Well, at least we won't have to shower," yawned Ron, following Harry's example and drying the water in his hair and pyjama top, overdoing the Heating Charm slightly out of sleepiness. Harry grabbed Ron's arm and diverted it as he saw smoke beginning to curl from Ron's head. Ron inspected his singed hair in the dressing-table mirror, which hooted with laughter at the sight of him – Ron irritably told it to shut up - then they dressed hurriedly and went downstairs to the kitchen.

"Eat that, quickly – we have to be there in ten minutes," said Hermione, pointing to a stack of buttered toast on the table as Harry and Ron walked into the room. Mrs Weasley was standing at the sink, clearing away the dishes, and at Hermione's words she glanced over at them.

"Be where in ten minutes?" she said casually, though her eyes were anxious.

"The Ministry of Magic," Ginny replied as she bit into a slice of toast.

Mrs Weasley looked slightly surprised, almost relieved, but she appeared to bite back her questions and merely nodded, before turning back to the sink. Harry was grateful for her restraint.

"Bad news, Molly." They all turned at the sound of Arthur Weasley's voice, and the grim tidings the words foreboded. Mr Weasley had entered the kitchen looking very pale, clutching a rolled up copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and Mrs Weasley laid down a dish very abruptly at the sight of his face, as though her hands were suddenly weak.

"What's happened, Arthur?" she said, eyes anxious and her voice slightly higher than usual. "Has someone we know –" she stopped, unable to speak her fears aloud.

"Frank and Alice's son, Neville, is missing – and Augusta, his grandmother, has been killed…" said Mr Weasley tiredly, holding up the paper. Hermione gave a choked, horrified sob, and Harry's insides seemed to freeze as he stared at the black and white photo of the Dark Mark glittering above the ruins of a house – _Neville's house_. Neville couldn't be dead, thought Harry desperately – no, he's only missing, he'll be found…Hermione, Ron and Ginny all looked white and shocked, and for a while they just sat there, stricken, while Mr and Mrs Weasley discussed the news in low, sad voices. Harry suddenly felt a huge, unexpected upsurge of guilt. _If Neville was dead, it was your fault,_ came a nasty little voice in his brain. _You're supposed to be the one getting rid of Voldemort, and instead you're wasting time at weddings while your friends are being killed…_Harry shook his head silently to clear the unwelcome voice from his mind, his thoughts in a sickened, appalled turmoil of disbelief. He felt sudden hot tears burning behind his eyes.

At that moment Charlie and Flavia strolled into the kitchen looking bright and cheerful, and Harry's headache worsened as he looked at them through a sort of mist. How could they look so happy? But they didn't know what was plastered all over the front of the newspaper…the news that Neville Longbottom, Harry's fellow Gyrffindor and classmate at Hogwarts for six years, was missing…

"We - we'd better get going," murmured Hermione, not looking at anyone as she gathered up the plates, suppressed tears in her eyes. Harry rose to his feet in a sort of daze. But some part of him knew he had to concentrate on the work of today – finding the locket – and so he did his best to push the thought of Neville to the back of his mind, hating himself as he did so. And the four of them left the room and went into the hall to Disapparate. Harry could distinctly feel Mrs Weasley's gaze on his back as it followed them through the door and out of the kitchen.

Several seconds later, the squeezing sensation of Apparition over, Harry found himself standing in the beautiful, huge Entrance Chamber of the Ministry of Magic, the famous Fountain of Magical Brethren standing, whole again, in the centre. At the end of Harry's fifth year, during a fight with Death Eaters in the Ministry, this fountain had been smashed by a curse from Voldemort but had now been expertly repaired. The four of them stood in the Chamber in a sad, silent group. It was a mark of how distressed she was by the news of Neville's disappearance that Hermione didn't even comment on the little golden statue of the House Elf gazing up humbly at the handsome wizard in the middle of the fountain.

"Names and business please…and I'll need to weigh your wands." A bored voice spoke behind them and they all turned. It was the same secretary that Harry had seen here last time, and he had just silently handed over his wand when he heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder to see the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, loping towards them. The thin, bespectacled figure of Percy Weasley, Scrimgeour's assistant, followed close behind.

"Harry!" said Scrimgeour genially. "No need, Eric, they're with me," he added, and the wizard nodded, thrusting Harry's wand back at him.

"Morning, Minister," said Harry, trying to keep the hostility he felt for the Minister out of his voice, seeing as without Scrimgeour, they had no way of getting into Azkaban. Harry noticed that Percy was avoiding Ron and Ginny's eyes – they were both scowling at him. But Percy lacked his usual stiffness towards them; today he seemed strangely disturbed and unhappy. Had he, too, heard the news about Neville?

Harry introduced Scrimgeour to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, for though the Minister had seen them all before at the Burrow a couple of years ago, he didn't appear to remember them. Scrimgeour glanced at Ron and Ginny and spoke to Percy over his shoulder. "These'll be your brother and sister, eh, Weasley?"

Percy muttered an embarrassed, "Yes, sir," a deep flush creeping up his neck.

"Well, we'd better be going, I informed the few guards we have left that we'd be there around 11.15," said Scrimgeour, checking his watch. "Weasley, I've given you your instructions for this morning, yes?" Oddly, Scrimgeour sounded rather apologetic, and Percy nodded, walking off looking for some reason extremely uncomfortable. While Scrimgeour had been talking, Percy's neck had been getting steadily redder and redder and Ginny and Ron had been watching their brother, identical suspicious expressions on their faces.

"This way," said Scrimgeour, motioning them to follow him, and they set off across the huge hall, which was bustling with witches and wizards, all rather pale and tense, some nodding at each other in greeting but not stopping to talk.

"So, Harry, what brings you to Azkaban today?" his voice was light and casual, but Harry noticed the Minister's fingers tighten around his cane. "Is Fletcher a friend of yours? Family? Or perhaps – something else?" Harry could tell Scrimgeour had wanted to ask this ever since he had seen their letter requesting the visit to Mundungus.

"It's family business," said Hermione, her voice admirably calm. She seemed to have controlled her tears. Scrimgeour spared her a short glance, and she met his gaze steadily.

"It is, is it?" said Scrimgeour, disbelievingly.

"Yes, it is," said Hermione, throwing a warning glance at rest of them to stop them from saying anything. "I'm a Muggleborn, you see, so I thought I had no wizarding relatives, but I've been tracing back the family line and it turns out I'm distantly related to the Fletchers. Mundungus' family is descended from my great-grandmother's brother, and Mundungus is the last of that line. I wanted to see the only wizarding relative I have."

Scrimgeour looked suddenly doubtful, as though Hermione's confident tone and the words that tripped so easily from her tongue had convinced him that this really was the reason for their coming, and not some secret plot. But the Minister soon recovered his poise, glancing shrewdly from Harry to Hermione, who kept on walking coolly in the direction they were taking, towards a large black door on the far side of the Hall. Their little party, especially Harry, was getting a lot of curious glance from witches and wizards passing them on the way to their various workstations.

"This is the only way you can get into Azkaban," said Scrimgeour, as they reached the door. The Minister inserted a thin, sharp key into the lock and the door swung open noiselessly, which seemed to Harry peculiarly ominous.

To Harry's surprise, the door did not open into a room, but instead enclosed a built-in, grim black fireplace, the embers in the grate glowing a sinister green.

"No need to tell the Floo where you want to go – it's only connected to Azkaban. Obviously, the prison is heavily laced with Anti-Apparition spells. You first, Harry?" Harry looked slightly apprehensively at the fireplace, dreading where it was going to take him, but he nodded and climbed into the grate. Green flames instantly whooshed up his legs, and he had a brief glimpse of the rest of the company shielding their faces, which were glowing green from the sudden light emanating from the fireplace, before he span away in a rush and whirl of emerald fire. He barely had time to steady himself or tuck his elbows in before he started spinning and he took several nasty knocks before the journey stopped abruptly, and he staggered out right into a hard stone wall.

Rubbing his bruises and taking in his surroundings, Harry found himself in a tiny room and hastily flattened himself against the wall as the flames in the fireplace leapt to full height and glowed luminous green again. The spinning form of Hermione appeared in the grate, followed by Ginny, Ron, and finally Scrimgeour. Harry found himself crushed and almost unable to breathe as the Minister awkwardly reached over to fit the key into the lock and when the lock glowed white and clicked they all spilled out of the room into the darkness beyond, gasping for air.

Harry soon forgot the bruises on his arms from the Floo ride as a sudden chill seeped into his bones. At first he thought a Dementor was near but then realised the cold was simply the usual grim dankness of the place. A steady dripping sound could be heard from somewhere in the darkness and the smell of sea-salt hung heavily in the air. Harry remembered that the prison was based in the middle of the ocean – but no murmur of waves reached them from outside. The only sounds were the slow drip…drip…drip of water, a faint, guttural coughing, and echoing from several directions, an unidentifiable scraping, clinking noise. The faint green light from the fireplace behind them – which had returned to the low glowing embers - hardly illuminated the area around it at all. It felt as though the light was sucked up unnaturally quickly by the darkness. Harry shivered with anger and pity as he thought of Sirius, trapped in this lightless, lifeless place for twelve years of his life.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat and Harry realised they had just all been standing in silence for ages, taking it in.

"Fletcher is in the right wing – cell one hundred and thirty-five. Come, and be as quiet as you can – now that we have lost all but a couple of guards, the prisoners are rather more – aware. It would probably not be a good idea if they knew you were here."

Harry nodded, and started to walk forward, more than anxious to get this over with so they could leave. This place, stinking of fear and cold and loneliness, gave him the creeps. The few torches hung in brackets on the walls did little to light the way, their flames low and flickering, and as Harry moved and felt his feet slide on the floor, he realised the floor was wet and slippery with slime.

Scrimgeour led the way along a narrow passage, the walls gleaming with water that oozed through the cold stone. He felt Ginny slip next to him in the darkness, and she groped for his arm and gripped it tightly. Harry was focussing on just trying to keep his feet and guide Ginny when he thought he heard an odd scuffling noise back in the direction they had come. A rat? Harry thought, turning to look, but all he could see was the distant bright green glow of the Floo flames, which dimmed as he watched, casting weird shadows. He felt the pressure of Scrimgeour's hand pushing him gently forward just as a tall cloaked shadow, silhouetted black against the dull green light, was framed momentarily in the doorway of the Floo room. Harry hastily turned his head away, not wanting to attract the attention of the Dementor, and they walked on.

They passed cell after cell, each as dank and grim as the next. Most of the occupants lay huddled in a corner or draped limply over the few boards which served as beds. Once or twice Harry saw the gleam of eyes and turned his face away, keeping it hidden – not that he'd be recognised in this darkness, anyway. Every now and then a prisoner would move an arm or a leg and there would be a drag of chains – this was the scraping, clinking noise that could be heard.

"We have to keep them chained now we have so few guards," murmured Scrimgeour as he saw Harry stop and gaze in repulsion at the thick manacles binding the wrists of a sleeping man in the cell nearest to them. Harry did not know who the man was or what he had done but he still felt pity at the thought of him bound with heavy chains, day and night, for perhaps years to come. Harry had been close enough to see the raw redness of the man's skin, where the chains had chafed his wrists, lit by the weak flame of a lonely torch. Scrimgeour moved on and Harry stopped staring at the man and followed. He thought he could hear quiet movements not too far behind him, and not eager to come any closer to a Dementor than he had to, he quickened his pace.

"Here," said Scrimgeour at last, coming to a halt nearly at the end of the corridor. "Cell one hundred and thirty five." He inserted a key into the lock and turned it. It glowed white briefly then Scrimgeour took hold of the bars and pulled. The heavy grille slid open surprisingly silently – Harry had been expecting a screech of metal. They peered inside the dark cell. Mundungus lay curled up on the floor in a heap of dirty grey prison-robes. A faint snoring noise was coming from the heap, and Scrimgeour motioned for Harry not to wake Mundungus yet.

"I won't come in," Scrimgeour said in a low voice. "I expect you'll want some privacy, Miss Hermione, to catch up with your, ah, family." Only the faintest hint of disbelief showed in his voice. "I'll be back at the fireplace – you can see it from here, so you'll find your way back all right?" They all murmured a 'yes' and Scrimgeour continued. "Very well, when you've finished, lock the door – don't let Fletcher see you've got the key or he'll steal it – and come back to the fireplace straightaway. Is half an hour enough?"

"Half an hour is fine," said Hermione, sliding the keys into her pocket as they trooped into the cell. "Thank you, Minister, I really appreciate being able to meet the wizarding side of my family."

Scrimgeour nodded to her – Harry couldn't see his expression in the poor light – and he turned and left, sliding the grille shut behind them. All four of them did not move from the bars until they saw his distant, limping black shadow reach the fireplace and stand there, waiting.

"I'm surprised," commented Hermione. "I thought he would have tried to listen in."

"Maybe he really believed all that guff about Dung being your long-lost great cousin or whatever it was," said Ron, turning away from the bars. Privately, Harry didn't believe that for one minute – he was still highly suspicious of the Minister – after all, why take the trouble of escorting them personally to Azkaban if not to find out what they were up to? But Harry, too, moved away from the bars and watched as Ron approached the snoring pile of rags on the floor.

"Dung!" Ron said in a loud whisper. "Mundungus!"

Hermione nudged the heap of rags gingerly with her foot, and it moved.

"W-Wazzermadder?" Mundungus mumbled, opening one bleary, bloodshot eye, then saw Hermione and jumped in shock.

"'Ermione? That you? Blimey! An 'Arry!"

"Shh!" hushed Hermione quickly, but it was too late; at the sound of Harry's name there had been a definite clink of chains from the adjoining cell.

"Whatcher all 'ere for?" said Mundungus, looking both amazed and disbelieving, and pushing himself into a sitting position with manacled hands. Harry noticed a long, heavy chain running from a bolt in the wall to one of Mundungus' filthy ankles, and his anger with the thief for stealing the locket Horcrux abated slightly.

"You come to 'elp me out of this stinkin' place, yeah?" said Mundungus. Even in the dark Harry could see Mundungus' hopeful look and he felt bad at having to crush his hopes.

"Sorry, Dung," Harry said quietly. Mundungus' face fell and he slumped against the damp wall, scraping the grey dirt off one foot with one long, broken fingernail. "Why, then? Whatcher want?" he said, his voice a pitiful whine. "If I 'elp you, you'll gemme out, won'tcha? You'll 'elp old Dung?"

"We can't, Mundungus," said Hermione helplessly, looking at Harry for support. But it was Ginny who came to the rescue.

"You've only got one more month in here anyway, Dung, you got six months, right? And that was in March," she said reasonably. "Seeing as you didn't actually manage to steal anything. It was more the pretending to be an Inferius that get you here." Inferi were dead bodies, bewitched to act like puppets to a wizard's bidding. Mundungus had been thrown in jail after impersonating one in an attempt to frighten off the owner of the house he had been burgling .

"One month in 'ere's like ten years outside," whined Mundungus. "You don't know what it's like..."

"Talking of stealing," interrupted Harry, who was tired with Mundungus' acting and impatient to find out what had happened to the locket. "We need to know what you did with Sirius' stuff."

Mundungus narrowed his eyes. "Wot makes you fink –"

"Don't bother, Dung," said Ron impatiently. "We saw you with it, in Hogsmeade." Mundungus said nothing, maintaining a mutinous silence. Finally Harry, in desperation, reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his moneybag. Mundungus sat up a little straighter and his eyes gleamed as the gold clinked.

"Ten Galleons if you tell me what you did with the locket," said Harry urgently. Beside him, Ron shifted slightly.

"That fine old locket? Great 'eavy gold fing?" Harry nodded yes, praying no one had heard, and his heart giving a leap – Mundungus _had_ taken it!

"Ten Galleons ain't very much, 'Arry. Thought you'd 'ave pity on a poor prisoner," said Mundungus, deliberately clinking his chains. "If it were twenty, now –"

"Dammit, Dung, tell me and I'll give you the whole bag!" said Harry angrily, his nerves already stretched to the limit today after this morning's news about Neville.

"Done," said Mundungus, quicker than lightning. "Aberforth bought it orf me. Now, gimme the money." _Aberforth_? Dumbledore's brother had bought the locket? Harry's breath caught in his chest with excitement – they were so near to finding it…if Aberforth had it…Harry pushed the bag towards Mundungus, barely noticing what he was doing. He met Ron's gaze in the darkness and Harry felt the same hope he was feeling reflected in Ron's eyes.

Harry remembered now that Mundungus had indeed been talking to Aberforth that day last year when Harry discovered the man had been stealing Sirius' possessions. And to think, he had been so close to one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, without knowing! Harry felt the pressure of Ginny's hand on his arm, pulling him up – their half-hour was over – and he rose, mind spinning over this revelation.

Mundungus had poured the gold and silver in a heap on the floor and was counting it awkwardly with his bound hands.

At the sound of them getting ready to leave, he looked up, letting some gold slip through his fingers like water. "Blimey, 'Arry, when I get out've this place I'm gonna be loaded!"

"Yeah, well, we'd better be going," said Ron, a trace of resentment in his words. Harry felt bad at having thrown away so much money in front of Ron, who didn't have much, but his mind was more occupied with thoughts of the locket at that time. Mundungus was so absorbed with counting the money he barely noticed as Hermione locked him back in.

"Thanks, Dung," said Harry through the bars. "See you when you get out…" He didn't like to leave anyone in this hellhole but it wasn't as though he had a choice in the matter. Mundungus just grunted, and Harry turned away, thinking he spied yet another Dementor shrinking into the shadows near the cell, and frowned – for a place that was supposed to have very few guards left, there certainly seemed plenty near them. They made their way quickly back to the fireplace, where Scrimgeour stood waiting patiently.

"Was Fletcher surprised to hear of his relationship to you?" Scrimgeour asked Hermione when they reached him.

"What? Oh - yes, very surprised. He couldn't believe it at first," said Hermione, covering up her confusion quickly, but Harry saw Scrimgeour give a small, satisfied nod, seemingly to himself, and Harry knew he hadn't missed Hermione's false start. Yet Harry was sure Scrimgeour had stayed by the fireplace all the time they had been talking to Mundungus, so he couldn't see how the Minister could actually have heard what the conversation had been about. _Just so long as he doesn't give Mundungus Veritaserum or anything_ Harry thought slightly worriedly, glancing back down the narrow stone corridor in the direction of Mundungus' cell.

As he looked, Harry saw yet another black shadowed figure slipping towards them. Just how many Dementors _were_ there in here? But before he could muse on this any longer, Harry felt Scrimgeour's hand on his arm, turning him firmly away from the dark prison and steering him towards the fireplace. One by one they climbed into the grate, Scrimgeour in the lead, and Harry, glad to be finally going, didn't look back as he left the cold, grim prison behind him and stepped into the warm, whirling green flames.

And when he stepped out at the other end, back into the Ministry of Magic, Harry got one of the greatest shocks of his life.


	11. Shocks, Spells, and Sullius

Disclaimer: If you think JKR could possibly be writing this, it's amusing but sadly incorrect. (You can go on thinking it though, heehee!) Also, I do not exactly own Sullius Rune. JKR owns the character, the name is mine.

**A/N: Most people want the title to remain the same, so okey-dokey, I'll keep it! Also, I must thank my new beta Mamacita-san for doing a great job with this chapter.**

And, ta-da, here it is - the Great Shock!

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"Neville!"

Behind him, Hermione's shriek echoed through the Hall and Harry's knees suddenly felt as though they had turned to water.

Neville Longbottom was standing silently in the Entrance Chamber of the Ministry, right outside the door Harry had just come through. A tall woman and a plump, bald man with a bushy brown beard stood beside him, and at hearing Neville's name they looked up.

"Neville, what – we thought –" Harry began weakly, staring at Neville in shock and disbelief. How – _how?_

"Hi," said Neville quietly. His eyes were blank and dull and he seemed smaller somehow, diminished. "They killed my gran, Harry."

"Neville, I – I'm sorry about that…but how - how did you -?"

"Yes, we heard, in the Prophet – you were missing, Neville! We thought you were dead!" Tears were suddenly sparkling in Hermione's eyes as she went over and embraced their friend.

Harry still couldn't believe Neville was here, now, in the flesh. Scrimgeour was looking quizzically from Harry to Neville, and seemed about to speak when Ron and Ginny pushed through the door. They gasped in shock to see Neville standing before them, alive and uninjured apart from a large bruise over one cheek.

"Oh, I don't believe it," said Ginny breathlessly, while Ron simply gaped, speechless with amazement and relief.

"I take it you are Neville Longbottom, Frank and Alice's son?" Scrimgeour asked Neville, one tawny eyebrow raised questioningly. Neville just nodded.

"Good Aurors, those two…and Augusta was a fine old lady…pity, pity…so you are the boy reported missing this morning? How did you survive?"

"I think we all want to know that," said Hermione faintly.

Neville just shook his head.

"I don't know," he said simply. "All I remember is the Death Eaters killing my gran…." He paused, breathing deeply. "And then I woke up on the ground. The investigators found me under a load of rubble later that morning… our house is in ruins…."

The tall woman with him stepped forward at this point.

"Minister, we came to find you," she said, looking harried and anxious. "My name is Enid Longbottom, and this is my husband Algernon. We are Neville's aunt and uncle." The man with the bushy brown beard nodded affably at Scrimgeour, who just leant on his cane, watching them shrewdly.

"Neville is now homeless, Minister, and we need your advice. We would take him in but we have suspicions that You-Know-Who might be after him." Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue.

"We need somewhere safe for him to live, somewhere protected by strong charms," Enid finished, looking at Scrimgeour almost pleadingly. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, immediately flashed into Harry's mind and he exchanged a quick glance with Hermione; he could see she had thought of exactly the same thing.

Scrimgeour appeared to be thinking hard.

"Why do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is after the boy?" he said finally, without looking at Neville who stood silently by, eyes cast downward.

"Why? Well, we just don't see what the Death Eaters would have wanted with Augusta – harmless old lady, always kept herself to herself… but Neville is Frank and Alice's son, and they were both Aurors… I don't know, Minister, I just think Neville was more probably their target than Augusta," said Enid, by now looking slightly desperate.

"And yet Augusta was killed and Neville is alive — and remarkably well considering he was their 'target.'"

"He was very lucky," boomed Algernon Longbottom, clapping his hand on his nephew's shoulder. Neville didn't make any sort of reaction.

Suddenly, to Harry's puzzlement, Scrimgeour's eyes widened and he gave a strange, forced laugh. "What am I doing, discussing this here, especially after Neville's ordeal this morning! Let's all sit down and talk about this."

He started limping quickly across the Hall as he spoke, and the group followed him. Passing witches and wizards were staring at them, and there was a lot of pointing and whispering going on. Most stares seemed to be directed at Neville – it seemed his face had been recognised from the morning _Prophet_. Harry saw Percy Weasley hurrying along the room, coming from behind them, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder at the Minister as he passed. For some reason Scrimgeour glared at his assistant, and Percy's neck went slightly pink as he walked off. Harry watched this little scenario curiously; what was going on?

Neville was trailing behind, and Hermione went to put her arm comfortingly round his shoulders. Harry had never seen Neville look so forlorn; he felt a rush of sympathy for his friend, who had already lost his parents to madness at a young age and was now going through such hell.

"You four can get home without any problems?" said Scrimgeour, looking at them over his shoulder.

"Wait, I'm not going home 'till I find out what's going to happen to Neville!" said Harry indignantly, stopping. "We're his friends!"

"I really don't think it's necess-"

"I can help," Harry added firmly.

"Oh, you can?" said Enid looking at Harry properly for the first time, and her eyebrows lifted just the tiniest bit when she saw his scar. "And how can you help – ah, Harry?"

"I mean, I know somewhere safe for him to stay."

"Where?" said Enid and Scrimgeour together. Neville suddenly looked up, and Harry thought he saw a shadow of interest flicker behind his eyes.

"It's – it's the place Dumbledore told me to stay at when I'm not at school, and it's protected by the Fidelius Charm. I'm not the Secret Keeper so can't tell you where, sorry. Neville can stay there - I have to stay there to be safe. You know Voldemort's after me too, yeah?" Harry spoke slightly sarcastically, ignoring the flinch that shivered through half the group at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"I had guessed as much," said Scrimgeour dryly.

"And this place is very safe, very hidden?" added Enid.

"Yes, I told you, it's got the Fidelius Charm on it," said Harry impatiently.

Enid and Algernon looked at each other. Then -

"Well, that sounds good to me!" said Algernon, beaming at Harry, and Enid nodded, smiling. "Yes, that should be perfect. Thank you, Harry."

"You'd better come with us now, Neville," said Harry, and Neville nodded. He gave his aunt and uncle a quick, automatic hug before turning away and waiting for Harry to leave. Harry found Neville's blank eyes and withdrawn manner vaguely disconcerting, and he hoped fervently that Neville would recover sooner rather than later from the shock of his grandmother's death.

"Goodbye, Neville…stay safe," said Enid, her eyes anxious as she watched her nephew turn away.

"Bye, Auntie Enid. Bye, Uncle Algie," said Neville dispassionately.

"See you again, Harry," said Scrimgeour, tapping his cane on the ground.

"Yeah, whatever," said Harry bluntly. And with that, he turned and left the building with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville close behind. "Neville, have you passed your Apparition test?"

"No," said Neville. "I splinched myself."

"Oh, er - okay," said Harry, wincing. Splinching, or the splitting of random body parts from the body, was a particularly nasty effect of badly-performed Apparition. "Well, never mind, I'll take you. Hang on to my arm."

And with Neville gripping his wrist, Harry turned on the spot, concentrating on his destination: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry felt the familiar squeezing sensation and then a sudden, violent jerk that left his arm feeling numb. He staggered into the hall of Sirius' old house and found Ron, Hermione and Ginny beside him, but there was no sign of Neville.

"What happened to Neville?" said Hermione, surprised.

"I dunno!" said Harry wildly, wheeling around to look behind him. "He was holding on to me – then he let go, I suppose."

Hermione suddenly clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no! I forgot - he hasn't been told by the Secret Keeper where Grimmauld Place is!"

"Oh, yeah…" said Ron, anxiously. "Where d'you reckon he is now?"

Harry went hastily to look out of the window, praying that Neville had only been forced to let go when they came close to the destination. And to his profound relief, he saw Neville, lying on the ground, seemingly knocked unconscious by the sudden separation.

Hermione opened the door and rushed out to help him. As Harry watched her kneel down beside Neville's prone figure, Ginny asked, "Who's the Secret Keeper now Dumbledore's gone?"

"McGonagall, probably," said Ron. "We're going to have to get her to tell Neville, somehow. Anyone know where she is?"

"What's going on?" Mrs Weasley had appeared in the doorway.

"Mum, Neville's alive and we're bringing him back here but he can't get in, who's the Secret Keeper?" said Ron in one breath. Mrs Weasley looked bewildered and she gasped in shock as she saw Neville lying on the ground.

"Oh, my goodness, the poor boy!"

"Is McGonagall the Secret Keeper?" said Ron impatiently.

"Oh - yes, yes…I'll call her," said Mrs Weasley, still looking wonderingly at Neville. She pulled out her wand, muttered '_Expecto Patronum!' _and a streak of silver shot out of the tip and disappeared into an alleyway.

"She should be here soon; she's in London, I think." At that moment Neville groaned and his eyes flickered open. He stared up at them all but didn't speak. Harry was just wondering how to explain to Neville why he was lying on a cold stone pavement in front of a house he couldn't see when there was a popping sound and Professor McGonagall appeared, looking white, shaken, and completely astounded.

"Mr Longbottom! How in the name of heaven did you survive? Well, never mind that now." She lowered her voice. "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are here, at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Neville stared beyond Harry at the house that had suddenly appeared, and he slowly got to his feet . Mrs Weasley chivvied him quickly inside after glancing round slightly nervously, checking for curious Muggles.

Neville was ordered straight into bed by Mrs Weasley and stayed there for the rest of the day. Harry was so relieved Neville was safe that he walked around the house that day in a sort of bubble of happiness. But he had learnt something: he was not going to hang around any longer while his friends were injured or killed - he was going to get out there and start finding those Horcruxes. Every day he delayed, Voldemort gained strength, gained followers, and destroyed more innocent lives.…

But there was one thing he wanted to do first, and that was to visit his parents' graves and the village where they had lived.

"When are you planning on going?" said Hermione when he mentioned this to her and Ron and Ginny They were sitting in Harry's bedroom talking in low voices so as not to disturb Neville, who was sleeping next door.

"As soon as Lupin gets back," said Harry. "Which should be the day after tomorrow, if the whole 'two days to persuade the werewolf' thing works."

"Why when Lupin gets back?" asked Ginny, frowning. "How can he help?"

"Well - he knew the house, and the village…he can guide us there," said Harry. "And I think he'd like to go back."

"How do you know he hasn't already been back? What about your parents' funeral – surely he was there?" said Hermione sensibly.

"I dunno… but anyway, I'll ask him. And in the mean time, maybe you could teach us some of those spells you've been learning from the Hogwarts books?"

Hermione beamed. "Oh, yes, I've found some really unusual ones! Wait, I'll find the books…there's one really good one…"

She disappeared from the room and was back in less than a minute, her arms piled so high with dusty old books that only her forehead was visible over the top. She dumped them on Ron's bed and started pushing them aside, searching for one in particular.

"This is it," she murmured, carefully lifting a thin green book from the pile. Harry, Ron and Ginny sat down on the bed and peered over her shoulder at it. The peeling silver letters on the front read, 'The Hidden Magicke'.

"Not very hidden if they stick it in a book and put it on display in a library," commented Ron, earning himself a glare from Hermione as she placed the book on her lap. The old leather creaked as Hermione opened it, and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck suddenly prickled. A strange tingling feeling of ancient magic emanated from the book's yellow pages and Harry sensed that the magic was not necessarily good.

"Right," said Hermione briskly, flicking through the pages. "I've found some really different spells and curses in here. This Pyratus Curse could be useful, look – sends a wave of fire toward attackers. Might be good if we ever meet a load of Death Eaters - though it's a really powerful spell so we might not actually be able to do it. And this Aveuglius Hex – ouch, it'll blind the person you use it on. I think it's only temporary, though," she added as Harry raised his eyebrows.

"How about this one?" suggested Ron, indicating a line drawing in which a man lay on the floor with what appeared to be his insides spilling out. "No thanks," said Harry, turning the page hastily. "I need to get rid of Voldemort, not learn how to wrench people's stomachs out of their bodies."

"Well, this looks good," said Ginny, her finger tracing the lines of the pages as she read the spell she had spotted. "Wow, I'm surprised this isn't famous – see, it's a charm that freezes whatever spell your opponent throws at you."

"That could be worth learning," said Hermione. "It might not work for the Unforgivables but for smaller curses…"

"Yeah, that looks good," Harry said approvingly. "Could come in really handy sometime. _Inertus Incantatem_…damn, it's non-verbal…well, let's try it."

"I'll hex you," said Ginny, with an impish smile, pulling out her wand.

"Hang on," said Harry hurriedly, getting up off the bed. "It's non-verbal, I'm not very good at those!" He ran over the words in his head. _Inertus Incantatem…Inertus Incantatem…_ Hermione ran out to put a Silencing Charm on Neville's door, and when she came back in, closing the door with a snap, Harry steeled himself.

"Um, all right, you can try now," he said apprehensively. 

Ginny raised her wand before he could think. "_Aurikulis!_" she cried, and from the end of her wand exploded several huge, slimy greyish-yellow things that shot straight towards him, flapping dripping wings and baring small gooey fangs. Harry was so revolted that he almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. "Ginny!" he cried in revulsion. "I mean…" and just as the bat-shaped bogies reached him he thought quickly, _Inertus Incantatem!_

And the bats stopped dead, flopping to the ground in a large, squelchy mass. Ginny looked slightly disappointed.

"That's the first time my Bat-Bogey Hex hasn't worked," she said as she stepped delicately over the slimy heap on the floor and reached the bed.

"It's great!" Hermione beamed. Wordlessly she Vanished the bogies with a wave of her wand. "Now, if that works for darker spells, it'll be really useful."

They spent the next quarter of an hour practising the Inertia Charm. Harry was reminded strongly of Dumbledore's Army, the defence club he had set up in his fifth year, as he hurled hex after hex at Hermione and she froze them easily.

"Hey, Harry," she panted as she stopped a Slingshot Jinx in midair. "If we want really unusual spells, you should have a look through Snape's old potions book, find some more he invented –"

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "I'm not touching that thing again!" he said vehemently. "Snape killed Dumbledore, remember?"

"But if it helps –" said Hermione reasonably, flinging a Jellylegs Jinx at Ginny, who froze it wordlessly and wandlessly.

"No," said Harry flatly. "I'm not using any of Snape's spells."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Harry – they're just spells, and some of them are really good!"

"You weren't saying that last year!"

"Last year you used _Sectum Sempra_ on Malfoy, Harry. It nearly got you expelled – what was I supposed to do? Encourage you to try them on Crabbe and Goyle and everyone else who annoyed you?" She was looking impatient now. "Come on, Harry – what if one of them saved your life one day?"

"You can use them," shrugged Harry, lowering his wand. "But I'm not using anything that Severus Snape invented, Hermione…not unless it's on him." He raised his voice and shouted to Ron and Ginny before Hermione could protest. "I think we've got that one now, you two…let's try the Pyratus Charm." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Not inside the house, Harry, we'll burn the place down…let's do this one instead…"

They spent the rest of the day looking up new spells and trying them out. And as Harry practised hexing and blocking and all sorts of new things, he suddenly found he was feeling very happy. Now that he was actually doing something, learning things that could, perhaps, help him survive the last duel with Voldemort whenever they came to it, he was glad. And if by the end of this week they had found Aberforth and got the locket…Harry tried not to feel too hopeful but he couldn't help it. He was grinning broadly as he ducked and blocked spell after spell from Ron, and they only stopped the training session when Mrs Weasley poked her head round the door.

"Are you all right, dears? You're making rather a lot of noise!" Her gaze travelled from Ginny, who was hastily putting out a small fire that was burning the ends of her hair, to Ron, who had thrown himself behind the dressing table to avoid a rain of icy shards that Hermione had sent flying at him, to Harry, who was laughing and shooting a thick chain from his wand around Hermione's ankles, bringing her crashing to the floor.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley looked shocked.

"Oh…sorry, Mrs Weasley," said Harry, helping Hermione up. "We're just practising. It's okay, really. Ginny's healing us if we get hurt." Mrs Weasley pursed her lips but seemed to decide not to pursue the matter, evidently resigned to the fact that they were not doing this for fun.

"Well, if you're sure… tea is on the table so you'd better come downstairs soon, anyway. Clear this mess up first," she said, indicating the broken chairs and singed wood that were strewn over the floor, the result of that afternoon's practice. The soft padding of her footsteps faded down the hall and then suddenly returned, and Mrs Weasley popped her head back into the room.

"Oh, you might like to know that Remus is back earlier than he expected! And he's brought a guest," she added, smiling.

"Oh, good," said Hermione. "He persuaded the other werewolf to leave?"

"Yes," nodded Mrs Weasley. "His name's Sullius Rune – we've all met him before, actually."

"We have?" said Harry and Ron together in surprise.

"Yes - you remember when Arthur was attacked by that snake? Sullius is the man who was bitten by the werewolf around the same time - he was in the same ward."

Harry vaguely remembered seeing the man in St Mungo's – the werewolf had had no visitors and Lupin had gone over to have a chat. Interested in meeting this Sullius, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet. He performed the counter-curse that made the chains, still tightly binding her ankles, disappear in a puff of brownish-grey smoke, and the four of them followed Mrs Weasley downstairs and into the kitchen.

When he entered, Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the stranger that sat at the kitchen table. Harry could not remember from St Mungo's what the man had looked like, but he wasn't prepared to see such a grizzled, mournful-looking figure sitting before him. Sullius broke off the conversation he'd been having with Lupin and Tonks (who seemed to be happy and bubbly again) and glanced up at them as they entered the kitchen. His gaze remained on Harry rather longer than anyone else and he gave a friendly, if rather wary nod, standing up to shake their hands.

"Evening. I'm Sullius, Sullius Rune – we've met before?" His voice was rough and gravelly.

"Erm – yeah, sort of," said Harry, awkwardly, looking into Sullius' deep-set eyes. Only two years as a werewolf seemed to have taken their toll on the man – his face was drawn and haggard, and a long scar ran from his left cheek across his mouth and down his chin. Sullius evidently saw Harry staring at it and turned away abruptly, back to Lupin.

"Remus is a good man," Sullius said over his shoulder to them all. "Saved me from a nasty fate, he did. If it hadn't been for him, I'd still be with Greyback and that lot."

Lupin smiled. "I am glad you decided to come with me," he said sincerely, as Harry and the rest of the sat down.

At that moment Mr Weasley entered the kitchen and held the door open for Neville who, despite his day in bed, had dark shadows under his eyes and was still quiet and lifeless. He silently took his place at the table and started eating the steaming chicken and potatoes that a worried-looking Mrs Weasley handed him.

"Are you sure you're all right, dear?" Mrs Weasley said, watching Neville anxiously. "You can go back to bed if you like, I'll bring you your meal on a tray…"

"No, 'm all right," mumbled Neville.

"He wanted to come down," explained Mr Weasley to his wife in a low tone, and after a moment's hesitation she shrugged helplessly and sat down. Harry guessed that she didn't want to force Neville to do anything he didn't want to do after what he had already been through today.

Harry had been waiting for this chance to talk to Lupin, but he waited until the meal was in full flow and Tonks and Mr and Mrs Weasley were deep in conversation with Sullius before leaning over to Lupin and muttering, "Professor? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Harry," said Lupin, smiling.

"I'm going to go to Godric's Hollow tomorrow. Can you – will you come with me?" As soon as the words left his mouth Harry wished he hadn't said anything; the smile had left Lupin's face and a strange look flickered in his eyes for a brief moment. He took a while to reply.

"Harry, I – there is really nothing much there. The house was ruined, you know." Lupin had laid his knife and fork down on his plate and was regarding Harry with a troubled expression. Neville had also looked up and was watching Harry curiously.

"I know," Harry said awkwardly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm going to visit my Mum and Dad's graves. Sorry – I shouldn't've asked –"

But then Lupin interrupted him, smiling again. "No – of course I will come, Harry. I'll show you where they are buried. Are Ron and the others coming with you?"

Harry nodded. "And – you're sure you don't mind?" he said carefully.

Lupin just gave him a small smile and shook his head before picking up his knife and fork again and turning to join in the conversation with Sullius.

That night Harry went to bed feeling strangely excited; tomorrow he would see his parents' graves – he would be closer to them than he had been since he was a very young boy. Harry put out the candles lighting his bedroom much earlier than usual, hoping that he would fall asleep quickly and the morning would come before he knew it.


	12. The Encounter

Disclaimer: Harry Potter was created by Jo Rowling. (My name isn't Jo. Or Rowling.)

* * *

That night, Harry had a very vivid dream. He thought that his mother was holding him in her arms, as she might have held him when he was just a baby, while his father stood near them both, smiling and ruffling Harry's already messy hair. When the morning drew near and the dream began to fade, he closed his eyes tighter, half-wishing, half-believing that it was real. And when he finally had to admit that the dream had gone, and opened his eyes, Harry still felt a desperate sense of longing and a deep sadness within him.

He knew as soon as he awoke that today he would be near his parents again - indeed, the knowledge that he was going to Godric's Hollow had never really left him all night. Glancing out of the window, he saw that it was still very early; the cold raw light of dawn illuminated the dingy road, where a starved-looking cat forlornly picked its way past a large, dirty builder's skip. Harry looked over at Ron. His mouth was slightly open as he snored, and Harry got dressed as silently as possible so as not to wake him.

At this early hour, Harry had not expected anyone to be up yet and so was surprised when he entered the kitchen to see Remus Lupin sitting alone at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and thoughtfully studying the _Daily Prophet_. Lupin looked up as Harry came through the door, and smiled.

"You're up early," he said, rising and picking up the kettle. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Er – tea would be good, thanks."

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand; it immediately started to boil.

"Thanks," said Harry when Lupin handed him the teacup, and they sat down at the table together.

"There's been a breakout from Azkaban," said Lupin, gesturing at the front page of the newspaper.

"Has there?" Harry wasn't too surprised – since the Dementors had left there had been several isolated escapes. But when he looked over at the paper, Harry choked on his mouthful of hot tea. Even upside down, he had no problem recognising Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy, Harry's schoolfellow and enemy.

"Oh, great." Harry scowled. "Now Malfoy's got his daddy back and Voldemort one of his slimiest followers. Bet it won't take him long to find someone to murder."

Lupin sighed, but said nothing, and the two of them lapsed into silence, reading the article and sipping their drinks. It was only when the first real light of morning began shining through the kitchen window that Hermione and Ginny came downstairs, a tousle-haired, yawning Ron slouching behind them.

"When are we going?" Hermione asked Harry as she buttered some toast for herself.

Harry started to answer when the kitchen door creaked opened again, and Neville wandered in looking as though he barely knew where he was. Last night's sleep didn't appear to have done him much good; if anything, the dark circles around his eyes appeared to have deepened.

"Hi, Neville." Harry pulled out a chair for him. "Toast?"

"I don't mind - whatever you've got - are you going to your mum and dad's house now?"

Harry was surprised that Neville had remembered last night's conversation.

"Yeah, we are. Why, do - d'you want to come?" he asked awkwardly. He didn't see why Neville would be interested but felt it would look unfriendly to deliberately not include him.

But Neville just murmured, "No - I'll stay here... Auntie Enid sent over some of Gran's things they found in the ruins. I think I'll have a look through them." His voice was very quiet, and a few minutes later he wandered out of the kitchen and back upstairs, leaving his uneaten toast on his plate.

Hermione gazed sympathetically after Neville.

"He'll be all right," Ginny assured her. "He can't go around like this forever."

"He was lucky not to have been killed," said Harry. "Lucky that someone raised the alarm before they could finish him off."

"Mmn...well, maybe," said Hermione thoughtfully, and she picked up her toast and began eating it mechanically, her eyes vague.

When Mrs Weasley came downstairs in a flowery purple dressing-gown ten minutes later, she looked surprised to see them all getting up, ready to leave.

"Are you going somewhere?" she asked them anxiously as Hermione cleared the table of the dirty breakfast plates.

"Professor Lupin's taking us to my mum and dad's house," said Harry, surreptitiously checking that his wand and the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father were in his pocket.

"Oh – he is?" Mrs Weasley looked slightly surprised.

"We'll be back by lunch," said Ron.

"Oh," she said again. "Well – take care-"

"They'll be fine," Lupin assured her calmly.

"Keep them safe, Remus," said Mrs Weasley anxiously.

"We're only going to Godric's Hollow, Mum, honestly - you're getting paranoid," said Ginny as she gripped Harry's arm, ready to be Apparated.

Harry only half heard Mrs Weasley snapping at Ginny for being cheeky. He was getting butterflies of excitement in his stomach again as he focused his mind on Godric's Hollow – soon he would see his parents' last resting place, and their old house!

"Let's go," Lupin muttered, and together they turned on the spot.

Moments later, they had reached their destination.

Harry didn't know what he had expected – perhaps to feel a tingle of recognition, like he was finally coming home – but as he stared around, all he felt was an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. It was a pretty enough village from what he could see from where he had landed in the village square, but it all felt new to him. He gazed around at the cluster of small, red-roofed houses with their little flower-filled front gardens and wondered where his parents had lived, and if they had been happy here.

"Um, professor?" Harry heard Hermione whisper behind him. "I think that child saw us arrive."

Harry followed the direction of her finger and saw the curious face of a boy, probably only five or six years old, peeking at them from his bedroom window.

Lupin glanced up at the boy for a second, then shrugged. "We can't do anything. He's probably a Muggle child, anyway – I highly doubt that his parents would believe him if he said he'd seen a group of people appear from thin air. Luckily, it's still early," he added, glancing round. "I don't think anyone else saw us."

"Can we go to the house now?" Harry asked Lupin, who sighed.

"Don't be surprised if there is nothing left, Harry," he warned, as they began to walk in the direction he indicated.

They passed a row of small, cheerful-looking shops whose windows were mostly full of flower displays or had big jars of Muggle sweets against the glass. Harry noticed a tiny, insignificant little building on the end of the row that paraded rows of Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizzbees, and several other wizarding sweets that Harry recognised instantly. He guessed that Muggles would not be able to see this particular sweet-shop.

Lupin led them up a little path through a bare field and Harry thought that they were aiming for the woods that lay beyond when Lupin came to a sudden stop.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked. "Why are we stopping?"

"This is it." Lupin gestured sadly at the empty field. "This is where their house was."

Hermione looked embarrassed and glanced over at Harry, who barely noticed.

"This is it?" Harry repeated, looking up at Lupin. "The house used to be here?"

Lupin nodded. Harry looked at the grass, the wild flowers, the blackbird pecking busily at a fallen apple. Nothing was here to even suggest James and Lily Potter had spent the few happy years of their marriage in this spot; nothing remained of the place where Harry had lived for the first year of his life.

"Did the Muggles have the ruins cleared away?" asked Hermione quietly.

"Probably," said Lupin. Harry looked up and, seeing Lupin's face, wished again that he had never asked him to come. But Lupin suddenly bent down to look at a few flowers tangled in the grass, a strange expression on his face.

"These aren't wild flowers," he said softly. "Your mother planted these when she first came here, Harry – and this, see – " He knelt beside a delicate white flower which stood tall still, bravely fighting the weeds threatening to choke it.

"It's a lily… I remember James insisting she have them all over the garden. Lily said he was being stupid." And he smiled, looking all at once young again.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

Hermione's voice floated over to them. Harry, Ginny and Lupin all looked over to see Ron kneeling on the ground, tearing up great handfuls of grass. He looked up, a smudge of earth on his cheek.

"Here, see this." Ron beckoned to them to come over, and they crowded round.

In the space that he had cleared was a small, white stone slab, cracked down the centre by the weeds pushing up from below. Harry leant forward to read the faded, broken inscription.

_James Potter_

_Lily Potter_

_Here gave their lives_

_In the battle against Darkness_

"They were standard Ministry markers," said Lupin. "Laid wherever anyone died fighting Voldemort."

Harry stared at the simple words on the worn stone, and felt a rush of gladness that the place where they had lived and died had not been completely forgotten. He brushed away the last of the dirt covering the stone with his fingers, and cleared away the weeds. As a last thought, he lifted the side of one stone and fitted it back into place. To his surprise, the crack suddenly disappeared; the stone was whole. It wasn't until he saw Hermione tucking her wand back into his robes that he realised she had silently repaired it.

They sat there in silence for nearly quarter of an hour, Harry gazing around at the bare field and his mother's flowers and trying to imagine what this place would have been like sixteen years ago. After a while, Lupin's voice broke into Harry's thoughts.

"Do you wish to see James and Lily's graves?"

Harry's chest was painfully tight as he looked up and nodded.

Ron was looking around them. "Where's the church?"

"The church?" said Lupin. "Oh – they weren't buried in a Muggle churchyard, Ron. No - they are in the woods."

"The woods?" said Harry in surprise, looking over at the friendly cluster of trees at the end of the field.

"Yes, the Ministry arranged for them to be buried in a secluded clearing so that they wouldn't be disturbed by curious Muggles," said Lupin, as he motioned at them to follow. "The Ministry also laid quite a complex web of Muggle-Repelling Charms at the time of the funeral – it is possible they are still in effect."

The path they took through the trees was possibly just an animal track, for it was narrow, winding and overgrown with straggling plants. Several times they had to stop and push back the branches which blocked the way, and Harry was just wondering exactly how long this was going to take when the trees began to thin and he glimpsed a sun-dappled clearing through the branches. With a jolt, Harry realised that this must be it. The dead twigs under his feet crackled as he eagerly stepped towards his parents' final resting-place.

Harry's initial reaction was one of huge indignation. The place bore a distinct air of neglect – why, one of the tombstones had fallen right over so the inscription was hidden, and the other (his mother's) was crumbling at the base. Harry sank to his knees in front of the graves and ran his fingers over the weatherworn stone.

"Mum," he whispered. "Dad…." It was strange and terrible to think that his parents were so close to him – and yet, so unreachable. Harry stared at the long inscription, the delicate letters still startlingly vivid against the old stone.

_**Lily Potter  
1960 – 1981**__**  
**__**Loved by all who knew her  
**__**Mother of the Boy Who Lived  
**__**Wife of James Potter  
**__**Who died beside her as they fought against evil  
**__**May their souls rest together for all eternity**_

To Harry's sudden horror he realised that his eyes were wet, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his sleeve, hoping the others hadn't noticed. But it seemed they were tactfully staying back at the trees, giving him some privacy.

A few moments later, Harry felt rather than saw Lupin kneel down behind him, and they sat there for a while, neither speaking. On an impulse, Harry reached over, broke the stems of a cluster of wild purple flowers close by, and laid them gently on his mother's grave. There was little he could do for his father's gravestone, which lay grey and broken across the grass. All was still.

Then someone screamed – Hermione? There was a sudden crashing of leaves behind him, and another shriek, this time from Ginny. Harry stood up so fast that he twisted his ankle, staggered, and fell over.

"Ginny?" he yelled, as he struggled to his feet, ankle throbbing and furious with himself. A flash of white light seared through the air straight at him and Harry only just managed to get his wand out in time to shout "_Protego!_" The white light crashed into the shield he had created and it shattered. Harry was knocked to the ground again with the rushing force of the curse, whatever it was, and was jerked up again by a terrified-looking Hermione.

"What's happening? Where's Ginny?" Harry shouted at her. Seven or eight hooded, cloaked figures were suddenly emerging from the woods on all sides, closing in on them. With a sudden surge of recognition and fury, Harry heard the familiar malevolent cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Harry, get out of here!"

Lupin was gesturing frantically at Harry to leave, whilst locked in a duel with a huge Death Eater. The duel only lasted a few seconds – the Death Eater fell and Lupin sent a Stunner at the back of a Death Eater that Ron was attempting to take on by himself. The Stunner hit the man directly between the shoulder-blades, and he crumpled.

Harry just managed to deflect a Stunner that was aimed directly at him, and Ron came charging over to them panting and ducking a jet of yellow-white light that shot over his head.

"Harry, _go_, we can't fight them all!" he yelled. Harry barely heard him – he had just identified a slim woman with thick, shining dark hair firing off Stunners in all directions.

"_Pyrashio!_" Harry bellowed, jabbing his wand with furious intent. The Pyratus Charm was more powerful than he had ever imagined. Fire thundered out of the wandtip, crashing in waves towards Bellatrix, who screamed and fell, the Shield Charm she uttered barely protecting her. The backlash of the spell nearly caused Harry to fall again, and he would have done but was stopped by an arm that caught him from behind.

"Ginny!" said Harry, relief flooding him. But there was no time to think, no time to say anything else, for at that moment Harry's insides froze as he saw a tall figure step out from between the trees across the clearing, a figure with a face that had haunted his dreams for months – a chalk-white face, with slit-like nostrils and blood-red eyes.

Voldemort did not waste words. Harry threw bodily to one side as the jet of green light flashed towards him and heard Voldemort's angry scream – the curse had hit a Death Eater. Still amazed that he was actually alive and unhurt, Harry staggered once more to his feet.

"HARRY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Hermione screamed at him wildly, while blocking with the Inertius Charm a curse thrown at her by Bellatrix, who seemed to have recovered though her hair and face were terribly burnt.

Voldemort raised his wand again.

"_Avada –_" But the words of the Killing Curse never finished leaving his lips. Lupin was suddenly in front of Harry, battling Voldemort on his own. Stricken with fear, Harry ran forwards to help him, but before he knew what was happening a curse fired by one of the Death Eaters whooshed past him and smashed into Lily Potter's gravestone. Another Death Eater from across the clearing for some reason started shouting in fury as the gravestone splintered into a crumbled mess. Though the voice was familiar, Harry barely heard it through the sudden rushing noise that filled his ears. White-hot fury was roaring in Harry's chest and he turned on the Death Eater who had fired the spell. The man laughed.

"Oh, it seems I missed my target," the Death Eater taunted. Harry recognised the voice of Amycus, who he had met the night of Dumbledore's murder.

Harry didn't stop to think. "_Sectum_ _sempra_!" he shouted, slashing his wand at the hooded figure, who screamed and crashed to his knees on the grass, clutching his face with suddenly bloodied hands. Harry felt a grim sense of satisfaction; then Hermione screamed wildly into his ear.

"Harry, if you don't get out of here this minute, we're all going to be killed!"

"What about Lupin?" Harry yelled back, casting a hasty Shield Charm to prevent a curse from blowing his head off. Ginny was fighting someone beside Harry, and Lupin was still locked in combat with a furious Voldemort. Though he was, amazingly, still standing, Harry was sure that Lupin couldn't hold off the Dark Lord for much longer.

"If you go, Professor Lupin will go!" shrieked Hermione. "He's stopping Voldemort so you can get out of here!"

But before her words could register Harry was suddenly aware of another familiar voice in all the noise and confusion – Narcissa Malfoy's? - laughing and saying silkily, even lovingly: "_Crucio!_"

Ginny screamed in pain and crashed to the ground beside Harry, yelling and thrashing her limbs around wildly.

"_Stupefy!_" Ron and Harry bellowed together, pointing their wands at Narcissa, who folded almost gracefully onto the grass, unconscious.

"Ginny!" said Harry desperately, throwing himself down beside her. But she was all right – her eyes flickered open after a few seconds and she started to struggle to her feet. It was this that brought Harry to his senses. What was he doing? If he didn't leave now someone was going to die, and it would be his fault. He knew that the others wouldn't leave until he was safe – they were too loyal to desert him now. Even now Ron was fighting off Death Eaters, letting loose another Pyratus Charm and in doing so giving Harry time to decide.

It was one of the hardest things Harry had ever done in his life. But he glanced at Hermione, who had a large gash across her cheek and blood running down her face, Ginny who was white and trembling from the Cruciatus Curse, and Lupin who had just flung himself bodily to one side to avoid a Killing Curse from Voldemort. Harry took a deep breath, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

Leaving the noise and blood of the battle behind, Harry reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. It seemed eerily silent after the noise of the battle he had just been in. Within seconds the rest of them – Ron, Ginny clasping Hermione's arm, and Lupin who had somehow survived the duel unhurt – had joined him with a series of popping sounds. Harry immediately felt worried; Ron and Ginny both looked furious.

"Took you long enough!" Ron hurled at Harry, who was taken aback.

"What on earth were you playing at?" Ginny was still shaking, a tear sliding down her cheek. "Why didn't you just leave straightaway?"

Harry felt a gnawing guilt begin to burn at his insides. "I was – I saw Bellatrix… and Amycus – and…." Harry's voice trailed away. The reasons he had stayed for so long and risked the lives of his friends seemed pathetic now.

"Harry, we know you have reason to have a personal grudge against half of Voldemort's followers," said Hermione, who seemed to be trying to speak calmly. "But the important thing is to get rid of the Horcruxes and then –" she broke off suddenly in alarm, and glanced at Lupin, who raised his eyebrows. Harry looked daggers at Hermione, who covered her mouth with her fingertips.

Lupin looked from Harry to Hermione, one eyebrow raised, and sat down at the table. There was an awkward pause as Lupin carefully studied his owm hands. "I see," he said at last. "Now, do you wish me to know any more or shall we just pretend I never heard that?"

Harry didn't know what to say. A while ago he had wanted Lupin to know, wanted his help. But now it seemed that more and more people were slowly hearing things about what he was doing – Mundungus Fletcher, possibly Rufus Scrimgeour, and soon Dumbledore's brother Aberforth. Harry was becoming reluctant to let anyone else at all in on the secret. But Lupin had probably just saved his life by holding back Voldemort….

Lupin said quietly, "Harry, you don't have to tell me anything. But if you ever need any help – well, I'm always here, you know."

Harry nodded gratefully but before he could say anything they heard the sound of Mrs Weasley's footsteps padding down the stairs. Lupin's gaze suddenly flicked in alarm over them all – the blood, the gash on Hermione's face, the dirt on their robes, and he stood up hastily.

"What on earth have I been thinking!" he exclaimed in a horrified whisper, as with surprising speed he began healing the worst of their cuts and bruises, cleaning the blood, mud and grass off their clothes with a quick "_Scourgify_!" and motioning them all to sit down round the table. "Not a word to Molly - she'll never let you out of the house again!" he added hurriedly.

They had all just managed to throw themselves into chairs and arrange their faces into relatively normal expressions when Mrs Weasley came through the door.

"Oh, you're back!" she said, smiling. "How was it, Harry?" she added as she rummaged in the cupboard for some biscuits. Harry thought of his mother's broken gravestone and the encounter with Lord Voldemort, and noticed Hermione concealing a nasty bruise on her hand with the sleeve of her robe.

"Er – it was – it was lovely," he said, taking a Ginger Newt from the tin she offered him. Beside him, Ron coughed. Harry noticed Lupin shoot Ron a quick warning glance, and he shut up.

"Well, that's good, Harry dear," said Mrs Weasley, looking over at him sympathetically. "Oh, I have a message for you from Tonks, Remus," she added. Lupin looked over at her. "She says that Harry might need your help, so she'll get out of the way for a bit. She doesn't want to harm Harry's chances by taking up your time."

Lupin looked surprised, then chuckled. "Tonks believes I'll be that useful, hm? Well, Harry, what do you think?"

Harry was taken aback. If Tonks was going out of her way to allow Lupin to help him, surely he should accept his help. He could hardly deny Lupin could help them enormously - after all, their old teacher had probably just saved all their lives ten minutes ago, by holding back Voldemort.

"I – I dunno," said Harry awkwardly. "I mean, it would be great if you could help us, obviously, and that's really kind of Tonks – but –" The dangers were very great. Harry didn't want to be the cause of Tonks becoming a widow, though he didn't want to voice this aloud.

Lupin sighed. "Harry, I would have gone through anything with James if he had asked. I'll help you too, if you wish it. Don't worry for my safety, I am quite capable of looking after myself." His hands were folded on the table in front of him as he waited. Harry hesitated, then gave a short nod.

"Okay," he said slowly. "If we need you...we'll ask."

Lupin smiled and rose. "Good, good," he said cheerfully before Harry could change his mind. He clapped his hands briskly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little work to do for the Order. Call me if you need help with anything." And he left the kitchen.

After a quick lunch, they went up to Harry and Ron's bedroom. To their surprise, Neville was in the room, sitting on Harry's bed and staring into space, listlessly twisting something between his fingers.

"Hi, Neville!" said Ron, plonking himself down beside him.

"Hi, Ron. How was the trip?" Neville spoke as if only out of politeness. He glanced down at the object he was holding – a dirty silver Sickle – and then stuck it into his pocket with a sigh.

"Uh, well, it wasn't too good. We got attacked by Death Eaters, but otherwise it was fine." Neville didn't look too disturbed by the news.

"Oh, right. But you weren't hurt." It was a statement, not a question, and they just nodded awkwardly. Harry didn't know how to talk to Neville when he was like this, and he found himself thinking sadly of the cheerful, round-faced boy he had known at Hogwarts. It was Voldemort who had done this, Harry thought bitterly. When was it all going to end?

Then Harry had an inspiration.

"Hey, Neville – I've got an idea – how'd you like to have a DA session?" They needed to practise some more spells, one afternoon certainly wasn't enough (though what they had learnt already had probably saved their lives that morning). Neville had loved the old defence class Harry had run in his fifth year, which they had named Dumbledore's Army.

But Neville just shrugged. "If you like," he said..

So that afternoon they dragged out Hermione's store of books and spent the hours happily jinxing each other and trying out some new spells. Not all were particularly useful, but in between the more serious stuff, they had fun watching each others' faces turn pea-green or spurting bogey-coloured goo from their mouths.

* * *

That night Harry lay in bed, enjoying rereading _Quidditch Through the Ages_ yet again and listening to Neville's quiet snores in the next room. Hermione and Ginny walked in just as he got to one of his favourite parts.

"I've written another letter," said Hermione. Harry laid down the book slightly reluctantly and looked over at her.

"Who to?"

"Professor Dumbledore's brother – Aberforth," said Hermione, handing it to him. "We need to find that locket as soon as possible."

Harry took the letter and read it through quickly.

_Dear Mr Dumbledore,_

_Sorry to bother you, but we've been told that you have in your possession an object which we've been looking for quite some time. I can't be explicit here in case the owl is intercepted but it was something you bought from Mundungus Fletcher two years ago. Is there any chance that we could come and have a talk about it? We also would like to ask you some questions about Professor Dumbledore, if you would be so kind as to help us._

Beneath, Hermione and Ginny had signed their names and Hermione held out the quill for Harry. He wrote his name thoughtfully on the parchment. "What sort of questions did you want to ask Aberforth?" he said, handing the quill over to Ron who scrawled his name untidily across the bottom of the letter.

"Oh, this and that," said Hermione. "I'm not really sure yet. But Professor Dumbledore might have told him some important things, you never know."

"Yeah, maybe," agreed Harry, getting out of bed and going across to Hedwig's cage. She blinked at him as he opened the door and settled on his arm, claws digging into his flesh. Harry rolled up the parchment, sealed it with his wand and tied it to her leg.

"Take it to the Hog's Head pub, okay?" he told her as he carried her over to the window. "To the barman, Aberforth."

Hedwig hooted softly in understanding and glided out of the window, soaring over the rooftops of London like a silent white ghost until she disappeared into the inky darkness of the night.

"I hope he doesn't mind us coming to see him." Hermione sounded slightly worried. "He didn't look very friendly when he came here a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, well, we have to get the locket, so we'll be going over there whether he likes it or not," shrugged Harry. "It'll just be easier if he agrees."

He slid back into his bed, suddenly feeling tired. And when Hermione and Ginny had gone back to their own room and Ron extinguished their bedside lamp, Harry didn't notice that the snoring noises which had been coming from Neville's room had now ceased.


	13. Weasels and Goats

Disclaimer: Not J. K. Rowling, don't own her characters.

Author's Note: I'm back - hiatus officially over! Thanks everybody for being so patient, I'll do my best not to leave it so long again!

* * *

September the First arrived. As the day progressed, Harry found himself wistfully following in his mind what he would have been doing had he been any other Hogwarts student. Now arriving at Platform Nine and Three Quarters; now boarding the bright red Hogwarts Express; now buying Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties from the short little witch who pushed the lunch trolley. He found himself missing Hogwarts almost constantly – missing everything about the old castle with its moving portraits and talking suits of armour and the hundreds of pearly-white, translucent ghosts. He would have given anything to be back there now, even in the dullest class of all, History of Magic.

But summer was fading and autumn drawing near; the treetops Harry could see from his bedroom window were at the mid-way transformation from green to gold, and the evenings had begun to lengthen. As the days passed, Harry knew he should not let himself dwell on what could have been. He had a job to do. And so, as they waited for Aberforth's reply, the four of them spent the days learning to duel. Neville often joined them, too, but he wasn't even half as enthusiastic now as he had been in the old DA days, and on this particular day he wandered off after an hour, shutting himself back in his room.

Ginny was coming on amazingly quickly; as her parents had predicted, she did seem to be more powerful than they had realised. She was learning to control and perfect her wandless magic, usually testing her new skills on the unfortunate Ron.

"Why am I always the guinea-pig?" Ron grumbled as he gingerly picked himself up from the dusty floorboards yet again, rubbing his aching backside. Not wanting to hurt Ron's feelings, Harry refrained from mentioning that he was the only one Ginny could easily take by surprise.

"Because you're the only one I can surprise easily," shrugged Ginny. Harry rolled his eyes, then looked over at Ron. He was wearing a mortally offended expression.

"That's – that's not true!"

"_Ennerex!_" Ginny said suddenly, flinging her arm out. Ron was lifted clean off his feet and thrown halfway across the room. Ginny grinned, but Ron just looked mutinous as he picked himself up yet again, having added to his collection of bruises.

"Oh, Ron, you really need to work on your reflexes," sighed Hermione as she sat on the bed, leafing through an enormous green-bound book entitled, _Curses of the More Gruesome Kind._ Ron looked even more hurt.

"I don't see you having great reflexes!"

"My reflexes are fine, Ron," murmured Hermione, turning the page. Ron glared at her, then quickly raised his wand and shouted,

"_Karashio!"_

The flash of blue light seemed to shudder in mid-air, then rebounded without warning on Ron, who yelled in horror as it engulfed him. Harry quickly went to Ron and helped him up, smothering his laughter as he saw Hermione still sitting reading on the bed, her wand tip just visible from beneath her book. She was smirking slightly.

"As I said, Ron, my reflexes are fine."

"Did that curse actually do anything to him?" said Ginny curiously, watching her brother. "He looks normal to me."

Ron was looking healthy, but worried.

"I think –" he began, but stopped, coughed, and released a huge, noisy belch. Harry leapt back in disgust as putrid greenish fumes were released from Ron's insides, reeking of dead fish and rotten eggs.

"Ugh!" said Ginny in disgust. "_Ron_!"

"Oh no – it means I –" he burped again. "Let out this stuff whenever –" Another belch, worse than before. "I try to speak!"

"Ron, shut UP!" cried Hermione, clutching a handful of her robe and covering up her mouth and nose. "We can see – we can _smell_ what happens when you speak, there's no need to explain!"

Ron rubbed his stomach anxiously. "But there's no counter-curse, I don't think – I can't go around like this forever!" The stink that followed this speech was so bad that Harry, choking, opened the windows to release some of the green gas and pulled Hermione and Ginny to the door.

"Ron, mate, stay here for a bit, would you?" he said, wafting away the fumes coming his way. "Does it wear off?"

"Don't answer that!" said Ginny hurriedly, as Ron opened his mouth again.

"You three, I'm going to get out of here before I'm sick," said Hermione, withdrawing from the room. They heard her footsteps clattering down the stairs.

"Ron, sorry but you're going to have to stay here till it stops," said Harry sympathetically. "If you must, er - try and do it out of the window." Ron nodded and sat on the bed, looking thoroughly dejected. Harry closed the door and breathed in a saving lungful of the unpolluted air of the corridor. He noticed that Ginny had already followed Hermione, and, trying not to listen to the sound of Ron's miserable burps from inside the room, Harry joined them downstairs.

Mrs Weasley was just getting dinner ready when he walked into the kitchen. She accepted Harry's quick explanation than Ron had just suffered a slight accident in a duel and that, though he wasn't badly hurt, he wasn't really ready to eat yet.

"I don't know, you lot are always searching for trouble," was all she said, shaking her head as she flicked her wand at some potatoes. They immediately lined up neatly like soldiers on the chopping board and a sharp knife floated over to them, dicing them with rather brutal speed.

Harry slipped into a chair beside Hermione and Ginny at the kitchen table, and soon Lupin, Tonks, Charlie, Mr Weasley and Flavia joined them. Harry hadn't seen Tonks for a while, and she greeted him enthusiastically as she peered into the huge saucepan of hot stew that Mrs Weasley had just carried over to the table.

"Mm, it looks delicious, Molly. It was so busy today at the office I forgot to eat lunch. I'm starving!"

"Well, here you are, dear," said Mrs Weasley affectionately, giving Tonks an extra large helping. Tonks eagerly dug her spoon into the steaming bowl, moaning in contentment as it reached her mouth.

"Thanks … yeah, trying to do Order work and keep on top of my Ministry paperwork, _and_ hide from the Ministry the fact that I'm part of Dumbledore's old club – barely have a spare moment," she said between mouthfuls. "Old Jacob Grume was asking me funny questions today, too – I'm sure he suspects something."

"Talking of the Ministry – I spoke to Percy at work today."

It was with careful deliberateness that Mr Weasley slipped this into the conversation.

"Wh - what?" Mrs Weasley, who had been spooning stew into another bowl, dropped her ladle, not noticing as she liberally splattered Harry and Lupin with gravy.

"In fact, I should perhaps say _Percy_ spoke to _me._" Mr Weasley was speaking very cautiously as he looked his wife directly in the eye.

"What did he want?" whispered Mrs Weasley. Harry, wiping gravy from his glasses, noticed that her hands were gripping the table edge very tightly. Mr Weasley sighed.

"Well – he was asking about Harry."

"_Harry?_" said Mrs Weasley, Lupin and Hermione together.

"What?" said Harry, instantly wary. "What was he asking about me?"

"Well, at first he pretended he just wanted to know if you was safe," began Mr Weasley. "But then he started asking where you were going, what you've been doing – I'd bet every last Galleon that Scrimgeour put him up to it."

Harry was feeling suddenly anxious. "You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

"Yes," said Mr Weasley, looking uncharacteristically grim. "I did. I told him that if he thought he could drop his family like an unwanted glove and then use them to spy on his ex-fellow Gryffindors, then he was no longer my son."

Ginny whooped and cheered, a wide grin on her face, but Mrs Weasley covered her mouth with her hands in horror, the congealing stew entirely forgotten.

"Oh, _Arthur!_"

Harry, Hermione, Tonks and Lupin exchanged an awkward glance and simultaneously began eating their stew as quickly as possible, so they would have an excuse to leave the table.

"Molly, he's snubbed us and pushed us away for three years and now he's just trying to use us," said Mr Weasley tiredly. "Do you really think he'll ever swallow his pride now?"

"But – but he's my son!" Mrs Weasley said almost hysterically, a sob catching in her throat.

"He doesn't have any reason to come back to us now, Mum." Ginny flung her hair over her shoulders with an angry gesture. "Not when he's with the _Minister_, who is of course much more important than just his own _family_."

Finally, Lupin intervened. "Listen," he said quietly. "If his family really matters to him, he'll come back someday, regardless of what he has done and what Arthur has said. Wait and see. And if he really has stopped caring for you, then it is probably best, Molly, to just let him go."

Mrs Weasley wrung her hands and looked at Lupin tearfully but to everyone's relief, she finally gave a small, reluctant nod and sat down. Everybody resumed eating in an embarrassed silence, and Harry gulped down the rest of his stew almost without chewing, eyes watering as the heat singed his throat. Privately he thought that Percy was an ignorant git who shouldn't be allowed back into the family even if he _did_ realise what an idiot he had been. Though he supposed it probably wouldn't be the best idea he'd ever had to voice this thought out loud, and so as soon as he had finished Harry excused himself and exited the room as quickly as was possible without appearing rude, Hermione following close behind.

For the next few weeks, the relationship between Mr Weasley and his wife was very strained. Mrs Weasley would be tearful and sensitive one minute, then snappish and bossy the next. Fred and George, once Ginny had sent them an owl informing them of Percy's disowning, turned up a few days later to celebrate. They arrived on the doorstep lugging a huge box of Cauldron Cakes, Peppermint Toads and other wizarding sweets with them, ignoring their mother's horrified exclamations of, "Fred! _George!_ There is nothing at _all_ to celebrate!"

But Harry didn't join in the party that the twins started up regardless of Mrs Weasley's objections. Neither did Neville – he'd chosen to stay in his room again, but that didn't surprise anyone. Harry, though, was worried about Hedwig; she had been gone now for nearly a month taking the letter to Aberforth. He was staring out of the window at the inky black sky when Ginny climbed upstairs and joined him in his room later that evening.

"She doesn't usually take this long," muttered Harry as she appeared at his side. "A journey to Hogsmeade and back usually only takes a couple of weeks."

"She'll be fine, Harry," comforted Ginny. "Maybe she met a dashing young tawny owl on the way," she added, smirking. Harry raised his eyebrows at her and turned away from the window.

"I just don't like it. If she's got lost or injured – aside from the fact that she's my pet, that letter to Aberforth or his reply could get lost, too."

"Could do," said Ginny casually. "But it hasn't."

"How can you say that? You don't know."

"Well, perhaps it's an Illusionment Charm, but that letter she's carrying doesn't look lost to me."

"What?" Harry looked back at the window, and laughed. Hedwig had suddenly appeared on the window-ledge, blinking up at him, a small scroll tied around one leg.

"Hey, girl – talk of the devil! C'mon in … " But Hedwig seemed restless and wary. She shifted from foot to foot, finally ignoring Harry's outstretched arm and flapping into the room to perch on top of the wardrobe.

"What's up with her?" said Harry, puzzled. It was with extreme difficulty and patience that he eventually managed to coax Hedwig down so he could untie the parchment from her leg. He handed the letter to Ginny, and she unrolled it while Harry tipped some Owl Treats into Hedwig's food bowl, and tried to persuade his snowy owl to eat.

"All it says is – '_Yes. HH, Nov 12. AD'_" said Ginny, looking over.

"HH, Nov 12," repeated Harry. "Ouch – hey, stop that." Hedwig had just nervously dug her claws into his hand. He pried her off and continued. "So, meet in the Hog's Head on the twelfth – that's in two days."

"We'd better tell Ron and Hermione," said Ginny. "No, wait – I'll go! See this –"

And to Harry's astonishment, she twirled on the spot, one eyebrow raised at him in amusement, and Disapparated. Harry's mouth was still open when she returned a second later with Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as flabbergasted as Harry felt.

"Ginny – how – when did you…?"

"Hermione's been giving me lessons," said Ginny proudly. "I finally managed to do it by myself yesterday."

"Wow – that's great!" said Harry, marvelling at what an able witch Ginny was becoming, far outstripping the others in her year.

"Yeah, cool," said Ron, not quite managing to disguise the slight resentment in his voice. He'd had particular trouble with Apparition last year, when he'd been quite a bit older than Ginny was now.

There was a sudden movement outside their door. Harry, puzzled, walked across the room and was just about to check the landing when the door burst open. Fred and George stood there, both looking highly offended.

"What is this?" said Fred, giving them all a mock glare. "Private party upstairs?"

"Our humble gathering belowdecks too rough for you lot?"

"Our Cauldron Cakes too boring…"

"Our lowly company unneeded by the Chosen One…"

"The Boy Who Lived…"

"The –"

"All right, all right!" interrupted Harry loudly before they could go on. "We'll be down in a minute."

"Yep, you will be," said the twins together, and before he could open his mouth to protest, Fred grabbed his left arm, George took hold of his right, and together they turned on the spot. Harry was dragged with them through this double-Apparition and found himself downstairs in the lounge, where several Order members and the rest of the Weasley family, excluding Mrs Weasley, were gathered. Loud, extremely bad music blared from a battered wireless and Charlie was currently undertaking a see-who-can-eat-the-most-jelly-slugs-in-thirty-seconds contest with Flavia, who appeared to be winning.

Two days later, however, Fred and George were back in their joke shop, and Harry explained quickly to Mrs Weasley that they'd be out for the day. Hedwig had finally calmed down a bit, though she would still fluff up her feathers in panic every time Harry came into the room. Nobody could work out what was wrong with her – she seemed perfectly healthy, just chronically paranoid. Harry supposed that a quiet day in his room with the four of them gone would do her good.

"Apparition is so cool," remarked Ron as the four of them appeared in Hogsmeade by the sweet shop, Honeydukes. "In London one minute, than _snap_." He clicked his fingers. "Just like that!"

They started walking in the direction of the Hog's Head.

"Oh, look – Scrivenshafts is closed," said Hermione, pointing to the quill shop. Since Harry had last been to Hogsmeade for his Apparition test, the windows had been boarded up and the shop appeared desolate and sad-looking. As they gazed around, Harry realised that several of the old, familiar shops were now closed and deserted. Huge purple posters flaunting pictures of Death Eaters were plastered over the dusty glass.

"It's as bad as Diagon Alley," murmured Ginny sadly. None of them mentioned it, but Harry guessed they all felt the same way he did – Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, all the old haunts – they just weren't the same any more. It was hard not to remember the good times they'd all had here, shopping, visiting the Shrieking Shack, sitting round small tables in the Three Broomsticks for hot pints of sweet Butterbeer. They were all so caught up in their memories that not one of them noticed the tall, lanky figure in a hooded robe gazing in their direction from across the street, over the top of a large newspaper.

The door of the Hog's Head opened just as the four of them reached it, and Harry took an involuntary step backwards as the barman appeared.

"You're here, then."

It was a statement, not a question, and before Harry had collected his thoughts, Aberforth beckoned them into the bar and closed the door behind them with a snap. After seeing the sorry state of Hogsmeade, which was usually bustling with witches and wizards from all over the country, Harry wasn't hugely surprised to find the usually crowded room was completely empty. The Leaky Cauldron pub in London had been similarly devoid of customers.

Aberforth motioned them into a grubby little back room, which smelt as strongly of goats as the main bar area. Hermione sat down very gingerly right on the edge of the stained sofa, which might once have been dark red but now was so filthy it was hard to tell.

"Sir – Mr Dumbledore –" began Harry awkwardly. It felt very strange calling someone else by the name Dumbledore, even a man who, beneath the grime and tangled hair, bore rather a startling resemblance to the old headmaster.

"We were wondering –"

"Yeah, I think I know what you were wondering," said Aberforth shortly, holding up his hand for silence. Slowly, stiffly, he knelt down. They all watched him curiously, shooting each other nervous glances. The man really was quite strange.

Aberforth didn't tell them what he was doing. He just lifted up the tattered rug, revealing a large rectangle of wooden boards that were so much cleaner than the rest of the floor they stood out starkly against the dirt. In the centre of the rectangle was a small iron ring which Aberforth took hold of and twisted sharply to the left. Harry drew in his breath as a thin line appeared, marking out a square – a trapdoor. Lifting the lid, a curious assortment of objects was revealed: a knife with a carved wooden handle, some yellowing documents, and what looked like a broken Biting Teacup. From beneath all this, the barman drew out a small object that was carelessly wrapped in greasy grey cloth, and Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He was dying to jump up and grab the object from the man's hand, but he controlled himself and waited.

Aberforth stood up, his shadowy eyes fixed on Harry. Then, with a single fluid movement, he shook the cloth, caught the golden object which fell out into his hand, and allowed the locket Horcrux to slither through his fingers to finally dangle, swaying slightly, from one grubby fingertip.

"Believe this was the object you came looking for."

"Oh!" breathed Hermione.

Aberforth glanced at her. "A yes, I think. Take it."

And without further preamble, he tossed the Horcrux at Harry, who caught it, stunned. "Th-thanks!" he stuttered, his breathing suddenly shallow with excitement. The locket was unnaturally cold and very heavy. As Harry stared at it, in his possession at long last, he saw the elegant, twining serpent in the shape of an 'S' etched into the gold. Slytherin's mark. Harry's mouth was dry. Here was an object that had once belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts, over one thousand years ago. He was grasping in his hand a possession of Salazar Slytherin, which now contained a fragment of the soul of the darkest wizard of this age – Lord Voldemort.

"What do you think?" grunted Aberforth, sitting down in a high-backed armchair. "Genuine Horcrux?"

"You _know_ about the Horcruxes?" Harry was dismayed.

"I suggest you stow that thing away somewhere safe before you lose it again."

Harry hastily stuffed the locket in the pocket inside his robes. The cold, hard lump weighed heavily against his chest.

"How much did Dumbledore tell you?"

"Albus told me nothing about Riddle's Horcruxes. But I have had … past experience."

"What do you mean?" whispered Hermione. She was staring at Aberforth very intently.

"I mean that I was there forty years ago when Albus found and destroyed Grindelwald's Horcrux."

"Whose Horcrux?" the four of them spoke simultaneously.

Aberforth surveyed them shrewdly beneath dusty-coloured eyebrows. "None of you kids have heard of Adolph Grindelwald?"

"It rings a bell," said Hermione slowly. Ron and Ginny were looking blank, but Harry, like Hermione, had a feeling that he had seen the name before – if he could just remember where.

"Grindelwald was the darkest wizard the world had ever seen before Riddle came along," Aberforth informed them. "Want a drink?" he added, gesturing with one clawed hand to the filthy bar outside the room. They all politely refused.

"Riddle eclipsed him, you could say."

"Why do you keep calling Voldemort 'Riddle'?" said Hermione suddenly. "I thought not many people knew that was his name."

Aberforth grunted. "I knew Riddle when he was just a kid at Hogwarts," he said. "And later, too."

"Why, you weren't – you weren't his teacher, were you?" said Ginny, puzzled.

Aberforth looked at her. The whites of his eyes were yellow with age and he suddenly looked very sour.

"Like I could ever be a teacher," he muttered darkly, staring into the empty grate, which was scattered with the remains of a long-dead fire. "I need a drink," he said, getting up abruptly and shambling out of the door into the bar. He returned a second later with a bottle of Firewhiskey, which he took a long swig from before continuing.

"No, girl, I was never even a student at Hogwarts."

"You weren't?" said Harry, astonished. "Why not?"

Aberforth glared at him, and Harry wished he'd never spoken. The atmosphere in the room grew extremely uncomfortable. Then –

"_Mehhh!_" Harry jumped in surprise and shock as the door flew open and in trotted one of the queerest animals he had ever seen.

"What is _that_?" said Ron, staring at the creature in intrigued bewilderment, and with not a little revulsion. It looked as though it might once have been a goat, though its coat was now a strange mass of fur and feathers, and a huge, yellowish tongue protruded from its slack mouth, hanging nearly to the ground. Ginny shuddered.

"Get out!" shouted Aberforth, brandishing the Firewhiskey bottle at the mutated goat, which gave a high-pitched bleat, more like a squeak, and shuffled backwards out of the room, bulging eyes rolling in its head. Aberforth rose and shut the door with a snap, then resumed his seat. Harry and Hermione exchanged slightly scared glances, but Aberforth broke the silence, carrying on as though Harry hadn't said anything.

"I knew Tom Riddle 'cause he used to come to the Hog's Head on Hogsmeade weekends. But I'm getting off the point. See, I was with Albus when he got rid of Grindelwald's Horcrux years ago. Not that anyone knew," he added bitterly.

"And – and this Grindelwald had a Horcrux?" ventured Hermione timidly. She was watching the door nervously, evidently wondering if the goat-creature would reappear.

Aberforth slowly clapped his grimy hands, causing Hermione to go scarlet and shrink into her chair. Harry didn't see why this fact should have been so obvious – he hadn't realised it – but then, this man was pretty odd.

"Grindelwald had a Horcrux. Albus found out somehow, and within months had tracked it down. He nearly died in doing so – it was extremely well-protected."

"Did you help destroy it?" asked Ron, looking at the old man with more respect. But Aberforth just snorted.

"Not as if _I_ could do that," he growled. "But I learnt then what Horcruxes were, and that meant when I heard Riddle had apparently returned from the dead, it wasn't hard for me to work out just what had happened. Riddle was a great supporter of Grindelwald during his Hogwarts years – wouldn't be surprised if he joined his ranks after he left school – but no doubt that's where he first heard about Horcruxes. What's wrong, girl?"

For Hermione was looking towards the window. "There was a shadow – no, never mind," she said, shaking her head. "Just a passerby…"

Harry looked over. It looked like a perfectly normal window to him, albeit grimier than any he'd laid eyes on before. He could hear the goat's hooves clip-clopping around the bar, and wondered again what on earth it was doing here.

"So – so you guessed Riddle had created some Horcruxes?" asked Ron, after a few seconds. "Why didn't you tell Dumbledore when you bought this one?"

"Didn't know it was a Horcrux then, did I?" growled Aberforth. "I collect stuff like that – old valuables, rarities ..." He pulled a key from inside his robes and opened the door of a large cupboard to reveal a startling array of gold and silver treasures. Harry scanned them quickly for signs of Hufflepuff's cup (just in case), but in vain.

"Seeing as I can't do a great deal in the wizarding world, I have to have something to keep me occupied aside from the old bar. See this here," Aberforth added proudly, motioning at a delicately moulded silver brooch. "Worth a fortune. Picked it up years ago in Diagon Alley. Don't reckon the owner had any idea of its value. Got strong magical powers, apparently, though I've never been able to use them. I bought that there locket from Fletcher a couple of years ago – cost a bomb, but worth it, eh?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, thanks – that's really brilliant … "

"Suggest you destroy it as soon as possible, boy."

"Yeah," said Harry again. "I will. Er – can I pay you for this?" he added, gesturing at the lump in his robes where the locket was concealed, and reaching into his pocket for his moneybag.

But Aberforth just waved an impatient hand. "Nah," he said. "Count it as my contribution to the war against Riddle. Now go, just go, and get rid of it quickly."

Harry nodded and rose. He would be quite glad to leave this strange old man and the goat-smelling room behind.

"What was that?"

Ginny had started, and was staring at the window in alarm.

"I thought I saw – one moment – keep talking!" she hissed, and before Harry got ask what on earth she was doing she'd slipped out of the door and into the bar.

"Keep talking, Ginny said!" said Hermione hurriedly, pushing Harry back into the chair from which he had risen. "She'll be fine, she's just checking no one's there – so, um – so why did you never go to Hogwarts, Mr Dumbledore?"

Harry could tell Hermione had said the first thing that had come into her head and was now regretting it, for two pink spots appeared on her cheeks as Aberforth looked long at her out of his deep eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" she trailed off in confusion, her face getting pinker with each second.

"Why didn't I go to Hogwarts?" said Aberforth in a low, bitter tone, pronouncing each word with sour clarity. "I didn't go to Hogwarts because Hogwarts does not accept people like me. People with no magical powers. People whose parents and grandparents and _brothers_ are magic, who become the greatest wizards in the world, who become world famous. Not _Squibs_ like me who live their lives out in a filthy place like _this!_" He gestured angrily at the squalid room. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Harry was taken aback. It had never even occurred to him that the brother of someone as great as Dumbledore could possibly be a Squib. He and Hermione shot each other surprised glances, though for the life of him Harry couldn't think of anything to say.

Ron, it seemed, didn't have that problem.

"But – but what about that goat?" he said, jerking his head towards the door. "Isn't that – haven't you …?" A snorting, snuffling noise indicated that the goat was still there. Harry wasn't particularly interested in the goat any more; he listened anxiously for a sign as to what Ginny was doing outside and was about to throw caution to the winds and follow her when Aberforth spoke again.

"It's none of your business, boy," growled Aberforth angrily, setting down his bottle of Firewhiskey with a bang. "If you must know, I tried out a Kwikspell course years ago and experimented on that wretched creature. Got dragged through the press, it did. Didn't work, either, as you can see – and so I kept the animal to remind myself of the truth. I am not a wizard, nor will I ever be. I would be glad if you left now!"

Ron looked as though he wanted to apologise but couldn't think of the right words. He was saved the trouble, however, by a loud _bang_ that suddenly resounded right outside the window, followed by cries of fear and panic. Terrified about what Ginny was doing out there, and unable to stop himself, Harry jumped up and pulled open the window. What he saw made his stomach turn over in shock, and through a kind of numbness he felt Hermione's arm dragging him to one side out of sight. Beside him, Ron let out a sort of strangled moan of shock. For there, sprawled inelegantly on the ground below the window with a furious Ginny standing over him, was Percy Weasley. His wand was rolling across the ground out of his reach.

"No … " breathed Harry in disbelief. "He wasn't –"

"Following us!" shouted Ginny, her eyes flashing with a fire Harry had never seen before. Percy muttered something incoherent, his neck turning bright red, and tried to get up, but Ginny flicked her wand and he fell back again, his Ministry robes tangled absurdly round his legs.

"So, spying on our own family now, are we?" Ginny hissed. From across the street, Harry saw a few passers-by looking over curiously. One was wearing dark robes and something about the arrogant, haughty way he held himself seemed vaguely familiar …

"I was – just going to have a drink in the pub!" panted Percy, attempting to straighten his horn-rimmed glasses and cover up his embarrassment. "How was I supposed to know you were there?"

"Well, I imagine you noticed we were here when you spied on us through the window," snapped Ginny, yanking him his to his feet, wand still pointed threateningly at his chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Percy pompously, straightening his crumpled robes. "I was just passing by."

Beside Harry, Hermione made a quiet, scornful noise of disbelief, but she remained where she was, her hand still on Harry's arm, warning him not to do anything rash.

"You expect us to believe that?" Ron suddenly leaned out of Aberforth's window, looking at Percy as though his brother was something rather nasty he'd discovered on the sole of his shoe.

"Oh, Ron, you're here too," said Percy, assuming a most unconvincing expression of surprise as he avoided his younger brother's angry gaze and looking increasingly uncomfortable. "What are you two doing in a place like this? It's – it's dangerous round here nowadays!" He reached surreptitiously for his wand but Ginny kicked it away. It spun across the ground into a small, muddy puddle.

"Like you care," sneered Ron. "I suppose you wanted some nice juicy information to report back to Scrimgeour? You're pathetic."

Percy's neck was rapidly turning the exact shade of a tomato, but with his wand six feet away there was little he could do. Ginny's wand was still trained on his chest. Aberforth, after one glance at the scene outside, had shrugged, poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and sat back down. He was now acting as though not one of them was there, perhaps still brooding over the fact that he, and not his famous brother, had been a Squib. Harry, on the other hand, hovered just behind the windowframe, fighting the violent urge to climb out the window and start bashing every inch of Percy he could reach.

"_Harry,_" cautioned Hermione in a frightened whisper. "Don't let him see you!" Harry tried very hard to stop himself doing something reckless that he would regret later. His fingernails dug into the wall. Most probably Percy knew he was there anyway … but maybe he should let the siblings sort out this family business themselves?

A second later Harry was highly thankful he had _not_ disclosed his presence. There was a sudden popping sound and a short man with grey hair and a black moustache appeared. Harry just had time to recognise Dawlish, a Ministry Auror, before there was another pop and the pink-haired figure of Tonks joined him. Only then did Harry remember that they and other Aurors had been assigned to patrol the village of Hogsmeade.

"Well, now, what's going on here?" said Dawlish in an official, clipped voice, glancing sharply between Percy and Ginny. Tonks gave only the slightest glance in Harry's direction before silently turning to watch Percy pick up his wand, having regained his composure.

"Nothing, Dawlish. Just having a little chat with my – family," said Percy stiffly, saying the last word extremely reluctantly. Ginny looked as though she wanted very badly to hex him into a pile of sludge and was probably only prevented from doing so by the presence of two Ministry Aurors.

"Abe?" said Dawlish suddenly, striding to the open window of Aberforth's back room. Harry, in a panic, only just managed to pull the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself and Hermione in time. Dawlish's head popped through the frame, only inches away from where they stood hidden. Harry tried very hard not to breathe loudly.

"These kids haven't been disturbing you, I hope?" Harry was sure this was just an excuse to see if anyone else was or had been with Aberforth, for Dawlish's eyes were flicking round the room, taking in every detail – the pulled-back rug revealing the small trapdoor, and the crumpled sofa where the four of them had been sitting. At one point he stared right through Harry to the wall behind him. It was quite a creepy sensation.

"Nah," said Aberforth slowly. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd go now, man, so I can finish my drink in peace."

Dawlish's gaze travelled round the room one more time before he nodded and withdrew his head. Tonks was still watching Ron and Ginny, one eyebrow very slightly raised.

"You two children had better be getting back," she said in an offhand voice, as though she didn't know them at all, though Harry could have sworn she gave Ron and Ginny a tiny wink. "It's Percy, isn't it?" she added casually. Percy nodded.

"Well, I'm sure you have things to be doing, Percy," she said firmly.

Percy didn't waste time. Before Harry realised what had happened, he had gone. Harry swore under his breath; he had hoped Tonks would wipe Percy's memory before he left. Harry didn't know how much Percy had overheard, and hoped very much that Ginny had deterred her brother from learning anything vital. But Harry had a feeling that this was not the case.

Dawlish lingered until Ron and Ginny had, with a furtive glance in Harry and Hermione's direction, Disapparated. Then with a curt nod to Aberforth, who had come to stand at the window clutching his Firewhiskey bottle, Dawlish disappeared.

The moment he had gone, Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak.

"Hi, Harry, Hermione," said Tonks, not seeming at all surprised. "Should I ask?"

"Not really," said Harry awkwardly, but Tonks just smiled.

"Thought not. I'll see you around, then – keep safe." And with a small pop, she too was gone.

"I have one last thing to say to you."

Harry turned back towards Aberforth, who was now looking slightly drunk but was still steady on his feet. Hermione watched curiously.

"You need to know the truth, boy, about a lot of things. I don't think you realise how little of the truth you know. I advise you to go and sort out with Dumbledore whatever loose ends he left hanging. Now that he's dead, he may have finally realised it is best not to keep things from you."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry, confused. Perhaps Aberforth really was too drunk or crazy to know what he was saying. But the old man's eyes flickered. He had guessed Harry's thoughts.

"I'm not mad," he said quietly. "Lots of things, I am, but not that. When you are able to, talk to my brother. Find out what you should have known many years ago."

"How can I …?" Harry had no idea what Aberforth meant. How could he talk to a dead man? But Aberforth looked at him as though he was being exceptionally stupid.

"The portrait, boy."

Hermione gave a soft "Oh!" of comprehension, but Harry just looked at them both blankly.

Aberforth set down the bottle and spoke slowly and clearly. "There's a portrait of Albus hanging in his old office. And it can speak, you know."

The portrait … Albus Dumbledore had joined the many dozens of deceased Heads of Hogwarts on the walls of his office. Hadn't Harry seen him there, with his own eyes, soon after Dumbledore's death? But as the old man had been sleeping and Harry was rather too distressed to think about much of anything at that time, he had not given the matter any thought at all. A portrait of Dumbledore – almost as good a confidant as the real man!

With one eyebrow raised, Aberforth showed the two of them out. And, head spinning over this sudden revelation, Harry Apparated with Hermione back to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where Ron and Ginny were anxiously waiting for them.

* * *

Please review! I've missed them!


	14. Truth

Disclaimer: Well, I'm pretty sure Jo Rowling wouldn't take … um … two months between chapters. Nope, it's just me again.

* * *

"Potter, it is a _picture_, nothing more. You'll only upset yourself by talking to it." 

"But, Professor, it's important!"

It was the day after they had come back from the meeting with Aberforth, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were having difficulty explaining to Professor McGonagall exactly why they wanted to visit Dumbledore's portrait, which was hanging in her office.

"Well, I will not be the one to stand in your way, Potter, but really, I don't see how this will do you any good."

Harry rubbed his nose helplessly. There was so much they wanted to talk to Dumbledore about, but none of it was information they wished to disclose to McGonagall – or anyone else, for that matter. Beside him, Hermione shuffled her feet.

"Oh, very well," said McGonagall, looking as though she was doing this against her better judgement. "The password is 'Witherwings', but for goodness' sake remember it is nothing more than a representation of Albus, Potter, it is not him."

"Thanks," said Harry, relieved. For a moment, he had thought she was going to refuse.

"I shall check with Albus what time will be appropriate for you to visit. But Potter," added McGonagall, looking at him sharply. "I advise you to wear that Cloak of yours. It would not do for you to be seen at Hogwarts. The stories flying around the school have not died down; you might well be besieged by inquisitive students."

---

That afternoon, the four of them sat in Harry's bedroom, having hidden the locket Horcrux in the drawer of a writing desk in Hermione's room. They had decided to ask Lupin for advice on how to destroy the thing before attempting it themselves, but he was away from Grimmauld Place that day. For now, it remained well protected under Hermione's strong Concealment Charms.

As they sat flicking through several more dusty spellbooks that Hermione had brought from the Hogwarts library, sudden footsteps sounded outside the door. Lately, Neville had been shutting himself away for increasingly long periods of time, and they had thought it best to leave him alone. So when the door swung open, they all looked up in surprise to see him standing there at the entrance to the room, breathing deeply. Harry realised this was the first time he had seen Neville for several days, and looking at him now, Harry knew something was wrong.

His friend was looking worse and worse; pale, and thinner than he had used to be. But what gave Harry a shock was the fact that Neville's eyes were different. They were no longer dull and blank, but tortured, wild, confused.

"Neville, are you all right?" whispered Hermione, looking almost scared as he stood there, frozen, one hand still clenching the door handle tightly.

"Yes," Neville replied, swallowing and sitting down on Harry's bed. " I mean – no! I don't know…I don't know what I – what I – "

Harry rose in alarm. Neville's face was white and strained, and even as Harry looked at him, the blankness descended over his eyes again, like fluttering, shadowy curtains.

A memory stirred in Harry's mind – a nagging, half-suppressed remembrance of a dark night, the smell of damp leaves, a pair of mad, rolling eyes….

"Neville," Harry breathed. "Hermione was right – they _did_ do something to you."

Neville didn't respond, but as Harry stared at him, he thought he saw a glimmer of life behind the blank gaze.

"Is he – is he –" whispered Hermione, seeming scared to say it aloud. But Harry looked at her, and she looked back at them all, and Harry knew the truth as the full memory of that night with Barty Crouch in his fourth year hit him like a bag of lead.

"The Imperius Curse. It has to be. Neville!"

For Neville had risen from the bed with a sudden, uncontrollable jerk, and now he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs. In a flash, the rest of them followed.

They found him standing wildly in the kitchen, confronted by a bewildered Mrs Weasley. As Harry burst through the door, followed by Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Neville stepped backwards into a stack of clean saucepans by the stove and tripped. The clanging of falling metal resounded around the kitchen, and Mrs Weasley shouted, "What is the meaning of this!"

"Mum, he's under the Imperius Curse!" shouted Ginny, as her mother stepped towards Neville, who was bent over, clutching his ankle.

"Be careful," murmured Hermione, then raised her voice. "He's not in control; he could attack you!"

"He's not going to attack anyone," said Mrs Weasley firmly, kneeling down.

"What's going on?" Mr Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tall woman in yellow robes Harry didn't know entered the room. Mrs Weasley looked up, a large smudge of flour on her forehead, and breathed deeply, taking control.

"Right – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny – out!"

"But, Mum – "

"Out!" Mrs Weasley cried, brandishing a ladle, apparently under the delusion it was her wand. "Go! We'll deal with this, go on – get out now!"

They went, and Mrs Weasley shut the door firmly behind them. They could hear lowered voices, the sounds of Neville's groans – Ginny looked alarmed – and Mrs Weasley's voice, raised above the rest.

"When I said 'out', you lot, I didn't mean just outside the door."

---

"I hope he's okay," said Hermione anxiously, when they were seated on the beds in Harry and Ron's room again.

"Never mind 'okay'!" said Harry loudly, and she looked at him, shocked.

"_Harry _–"

"Hermione, you do realise what Neville's been doing?" She shook her head slowly, worriedly.

"Spying on us." It was Ginny's voice, low and sad, that answered the question. "He must have been communicating with the Death Eaters…telling them our movements."

"But how?" said Hermione. "He has no way of sending messages – no owl – and he hasn't set foot outside the house since he came."

"I don't know how, but of course he's been sending messages," said Harry impatiently. "There were Death Eaters in Godric's Hollow, right after we told Neville where we were going. And I wouldn't be surprised if there were Death Eaters watching in Hogsmeade yesterday – and at Azkaban. I thought there were too many Dementors around. I'll bet it was Wormtail or another of those slimy gits…."

"I suppose so," said Hermione. "But don't forget, it could have been Percy."

"Well, yeah…one slimy git looks the same as another, really…."

"Oh, very funny…."

"You lot!" They stopped arguing as Mrs Weasley's voice floated up the stairs. "You might want to come down now."

Harry jumped off the bed, and the four of them went downstairs.

"Neville?" he said tentatively, as they reached the kitchen door, which was shut. A second later, it opened a little, and Mrs Weasley's head popped round the doorway.

"Never mind Neville, we're dealing with him," she said firmly. "Minerva popped back to Hogwarts to check with Dumbledore that you could go to see him, and she's just returned with a message."

"What did he say?" said Ron.

"He wants Harry to go to see him tomorrow afternoon. Yes, just Harry," she added as Ron, Ginny and Hermione opened their mouths in protest. "He says there are things they need to talk about in private."

And she retreated into the kitchen.

"Fair enough," said Ginny. "Don't even tell us what you're doing to Neville."

"Neville will be fine," said Hermione, though she looked a little anxious. "I'm more interested in what Dumbledore wants to say only to you, Harry."

"'The truth', that's what Aberforth said," shrugged Harry. "Dumbledore always did like keeping secrets from me; maybe he's regretting it now that that he's dead."

"Harry!"

"Well, it's true," said Harry mutinously. "It would've been a lot easier for both of us if he'd just told me the truth when I asked him in first year."

"Yes, well, he chose not to and I think that should be good enough for all of us," said Hermione firmly. "Come on, let's get back upstairs," she added, as the sound of raised voices and more groaning floated through the heavy wooden kitchen door into the hallway.

---

That day was doomed to be a bad one. Straight after lunch, Harry managed to see something he would certainly rather not have. Neville had been put to bed with Mrs Weasley's assurance that "he'll be back to normal when he wakes up," and Harry found himself on his own, the others all having wandered off to do their own things.

After a while of lying on his bed doing nothing in particular, Harry decided to seek Hermione out. He'd been wanting to ask her for advice; Christmas was just three weeks away and he hadn't given Ginny's present a thought. Harry reckoned that Hermione, having been one of Ginny's closest friends for several years now, would have a better idea than he of what to get.

So he slid off the bed, focused on Hermione's room, turned on the spot and Disapparated.

A second of compression, a moment of not being able to breathe, and then he landed right on top of something large, moving, and very much alive.

"AAGH!" Someone screamed in his left ear and Harry nearly fell over in shock, frantically fighting to untangle himself. To his ultimate horror, he stared at Ron and Hermione, who had been kissing passionately right in the centre of the room until Harry had landed on top of them.

He was speechless with shock and embarrassment. Hermione, whose face had flushed to the roots of her hair, gave him one mortified, half-angry look and stumbled out of the room, the door swinging wildly behind her.

Ron wiped his face self-consciously with his hand as he tried to avoid Harry's gaze.

"Mate, I – I'm so sorry, I – I just wanted to ask Hermione –" Harry stumbled over the words as he tried to think of something to say. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore never Apparated directly into other people's rooms, he thought grimly. He would never do it again, that was for sure.

"It's all right," mumbled Ron, still looking everywhere but at Harry. "I guess you had to know sometime. But knock next time, okay?"

And leaving Harry standing there still red with embarrassment, Ron walked out of Hermione's room and down the stairs.

But the excitement had not ended there. Barely two minutes after Ron left the room, a shriek sounded from below, followed by shouting and what sounded like sobbing. Alarmed, and his embarrassment forgotten, Harry clambered downstairs to the source of the noise. The commotion was coming from the lounge, where Ginny had been playing with her pet; a Pygmy Puff named Arnold that she was very fond of. Harry opened the door of the lounge to see Ginny in tears, Hermione trying to comfort her, and Ron with one hand clapped over his mouth.

"Ginny, are you all right?" said Harry in alarm, striding over.

"All right?" Ginny wailed. It was at that moment that Harry noticed the tiny ball of purple fur on the stone floor; an extremely flat ball of purple fur. Arnold the Pygmy Puff would scurry around no longer.

"Ron – Ron trod on him!"

And she burst into fresh floods of tears.

"Oh, right…" said Harry helplessly, as Ron collapsed into an armchair, aghast.

"It was an accident!" he said, guilt-stricken. "He's so small I didn't even notice him until – well…" he trailed off uncomfortably. "I can buy you another one, if you like."

But Ginny refused to be comforted.

Harry went to bed that night with his head pounding. He hoped fervently that tomorrow would be nice and normal, and that the chat with Dumbledore wouldn't be too deep or revealing. He couldn't have been more wrong.

---

The next day dawned cold and clear, and as Harry stood in Hogsmeade, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, he sensed that winter was on its way. He set off at a brisk walk for Hogwarts, finding himself half wishing that there were no anti-Apparition spells laid on the school and the grounds – it would save his fingers, which were fast becoming numb in the chill wind.

Hagrid had been informed of his coming, and as Harry approached the Hogwarts gates, which were flanked with ancient stone boars, he saw the giant man striding towards him, each step covering six feet of frosty ground. A huge woman walked beside him, not an inch shorter – Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons headmistress. Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and grinned as they approached. Hagrid waved.

"Alrigh', Harry?" he beamed as he reached the gate and inserted the great iron key into the lock.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry, raising his voice over the rumbling sound coming from the gate. The lock was vibrating violently; a brilliant flash of white light streamed from the keyhole and the gates swung open.

"'Arry Potter," said Madame Maxime majestically, extending a huge but feminine hand, covered in sparking opal rings. Harry shook it awkwardly – it was level with his head – then let out a feeble, "Oh!" as the giantess raised an eyebrow. He supposed he was meant to have kissed it.

Hagrid chuckled, then said, "Minerva says yer goin' ter have a talk with Professor Dumbledore, Harry."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Apparently there's some stuff he wants to tell me."

"Abou' – abou' what yeh have ter do to get rid o' Voldemort, I s'pose?" said Hagrid. Harry looked at Hagrid curiously. He seemed nervous and was twisting his heavy scarf in one massive hand.

"I suppose so," said Harry. "I don't know what else it could be."

"Righ'. O' course – well, I'll jus' let yeh get on with it, Harry. Join me an' Olympe fer lunch afterwards, if yeh like."

"Cheers," said Harry with a smile, and he began to walk in the direction of the castle, donning his Invisibility Cloak as he went. Hagrid and Madame Maxime set off towards Hagrid's wooden cabin.

"Good luck, Harry," Hagrid shouted after him. He was still twisting his scarf anxiously, finally ripping it in half. Harry thought it was a strange thing to say, but he let the Cloak slip off one arm and raised it in a wave.

When Harry entered the school, he was surprised at how empty it felt. Normally there was a continual distant murmur of sound – pupils talking in classes, ghosts chatting in the corridors, teachers' voices floating out of open classroom doors. There _were_ people here – glancing into random classrooms, Harry saw them, heads bent over parchment, and teachers walking around the desks, checking work over shoulders. But there were certainly fewer pupils than before – evidently many had been kept at home by anxious parents – and the atmosphere was different: graver, sadder. He glanced into a sixth-year classroom and saw Luna Lovegood vaguely tickling her own nose with her quill, but her schoolmates were all concentrating on their work. Harry supposed that with the number of parents and, in some cases, fellow pupils, having gone missing or been killed, the school just could not be the cheerful, safe place it had always seemed.

Sadly, he turned a corner, took a shortcut behind a tapestry, and sped along to the Headmistress's office.

"Witherwings," he said quietly to the gargoyle who protected the entrance, and the ugly stone sculpture sprang to life, jumping to one side. Harry stepped onto the familiar revolving spiral staircase, and was carried up towards Dumbledore's office.

When he reached the top, Harry hesitated at the door. He knew the room was empty, but he was going in for a meeting of a kind; should he knock on the door and wait for the portrait to bid him enter?

He settled for clearing his throat loudly to announce his presence, then took off his Cloak, stuffed it into his pocket, and pushed open the door. He looked at once behind McGonagall's desk, and saw the portrait hanging there on the wall. The portrait smiled at Harry, and looked at him over the top of its painted half-moon spectacles.

"Afternoon, Professor," said Harry awkwardly, hovering at the door.

"Good afternoon, Harry!" beamed Dumbledore from the wall. "I hope you are well?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, wondering whether it would be pointless to ask the same question of his Headmaster; this was, after all, only a portrait of him.

The painted Dumbledore smiled as though he guessed Harry's thoughts.

"I am remarkably well, you know. Being a portrait is very restful, even if the view is rather unchanging. Do take a seat, my boy."

Harry sat, and for a moment there was silence between them.

"Is there anything you would like to say to me, Harry?" said Dumbledore finally, surveying Harry carefully with his bright blue eyes.

"I don't know where to start," Harry admitted.

"Perhaps we should start with the night of my death," suggested Dumbledore cheerfully. "A good, meaty topic to start with."

"There's not much to say about that, is there, sir?"

"Why ever not?" Dumbledore's eyebrows were raised.

"Well," said Harry slowly, "you were wrong, weren't you? After all you said…Snape _was_ on the Dark side. And now he's gone…that's all there is to it."

"Ah," said Dumbledore apologetically. "I thought we might disagree on this point."

Harry looked up disbelievingly. "Sir?"

"I am afraid, Harry, that I continue to trust Severus despite his actions last summer."

"_Despite his actions,"_ repeated Harry incredulously, standing up. "Professor – he _murdered_ you. Surely you can't still say –"

"We continue to argue after one of us is dead," interrupted Dumbledore, looking amused. "Harry, sit down. You must trust me; Severus is not to be blamed for what he did. He is misunderstood by the entire wizarding world. The Dark side believe he has proved himself a true Death Eater, and the side which you are on Harry, and which he is on too despite all the evidence against him, are convinced that I was wrong and he is Voldemort's right-hand man after all. Even Minerva believes this still, though I have attempted to explain the truth to her. She does not agree. _You_ must agree, Harry, or an innocent man will suffer unfairly."

Harry just looked at Dumbledore in utmost disbelief. He could not understand how the old Headmaster could be so stubborn.

"Right," he said, sitting back in the chair. "So Snape is innocent. Can you prove it?"

Harry expected Dumbledore to refuse; he had asked this question too many times to count, and Dumbledore had never given a satisfactory answer. But this time, he was amazed to hear the old man whisper, in a low, tired voice, "Yes."

Harry sat up straighter. "You can?" he asked sceptically. "You can really prove that when Snape murdered you, it wasn't really him but, oh, Bellatrix under Polyjuice Potion?" The sarcasm slipped out almost accidentally, and he wished he hadn't said it, but Dumbledore merely smiled.

"No, it was Severus. But I am afraid that you do not know the whole truth."

"So even after you said last year that you'd told me everything, you hadn't," Harry said flatly. He wasn't too surprised.

"I wished to spare you a little more unnecessary pain, Harry, but when Severus' life hangs in the balance…."

Snape's life meant very little to Harry, but he conceded. "Okay. So what proof do you have?"

"You know where my Pensieve is, Harry – bring it here."

Surprised but curious, Harry went over to the cupboard where the Pensieve was kept, lifted the heavy stone basin in both hands, and placed it on the desk. Dumbledore was watching Harry with an odd expression, almost pitying, on his face.

"I had hoped for you never to see this, Harry – will you not just take my word?"

Harry paused uncomfortably, but his curiosity was aroused now, and he knew he would not be able to leave the office until he had seen whatever memory Dumbledore had kept from him for so long.

"The Pensieve will take you to the correct memory," said Dumbledore softly, seeing Harry's silent refusal. "It has a peculiar way of knowing these things."

Harry nodded.

"And try to remember, Harry…forgiveness is a very great thing."

With these final, quiet words whispered from the wall, Harry breathed in deeply, readying himself, then plunged his face into the swirling silvery contents of the bowl. At once he was pitched forward out of the office and fell down through apparently endless dark. After a few seconds, his feet hit the ground with a jolt, and Harry discovered that he had landed in an empty corridor – he was at Hogwarts. The ghost of Nearly Headless Nick drifted past, unaware of Harry's presence, for of course, he was not really there at all.

The corridor was not empty, as Harry had thought; just seconds after he landed, footsteps sounded from around the corner and Dumbledore appeared, the younger, auburn-haired man that Harry had become accustomed to seeing in various memories in the Pensieve. Dumbledore swept past, humming quietly to himself, and Harry immediately followed in his wake. For nearly five minutes Harry trotted along behind, wondering when something was going to happen, when suddenly, angry shouts and a girl's horrified screaming sounded from below. Dumbledore stopped abruptly, locating the source of the noise, then rapped sharply on the wall beside him with one long-fingered hand. A passage appeared from nowhere and Dumbledore strode down it, emerging into a scene of utter chaos. Harry joined him, panting, and what he saw made his heart give a huge leap.

James Potter – he looked to be in about sixth year – was standing there, wand drawn and furious, the prone, bleeding figure of Severus Snape lying at his feet. But what shocked Harry most of all was that his dad was crying – actually crying – and it seemed the young, long-haired Sirius next to him was as amazed as he.

"You _beast!_"

Harry tore his eyes from his father's face to see the sixteen-year-old Lily Evans knelt, shaking, beside Snape, green eyes filled with pure hatred and her gaze directly on James. Harry would never have believed someone could look so angry. A large crowd of students had gathered to watch the fun, but Dumbledore remained hidden in the shadow of the secret passage, observing silently with knitted brows.

"What makes you think you had the right to do this?" hissed Lily, standing up to face James. "Why can't you ever leave him alone?"

"Lily –" James rubbed the sleeve of his robe across his eyes, evidently half-aware of all the wide-eyed students around him. But he did not defend himself. "Why did you do it? How could you?" he mumbled half-coherently, looking distraught. "I never thought –"

"Why did _I_ do it?" repeated Lily incredulously. "I have perfect right to do – what I was doing!" she said, glancing in embarrassment around her, and a few students laughed and wolf-whistled. "Are you not ashamed of what _you've_ done?" And she gestured at Snape, who was still unconscious on the floor. His nose was very obviously broken, but as much blood streamed out from the great gash across his face as from his nostrils. Lily bent down, trying to staunch the flow with a muttered charm.

"Well, I reckon you did a good job there, Potter!" yelled a tall, dark-skinned boy from the middle of the crowd. "He had it coming to him!" The cry was backed up by laughs and cheers. Snape was evidently not too popular with his peers. Only a few people – probably Slytherins – looked less than amused.

"Get lost, you lot," snapped Lily angrily, her red hair swinging over her shoulder. "Potter, I'll thank you to stop interfering in my private life, and if you think you can _ever _make me want to go out with you, you are even less intelligent than you look."

James looked stung as a ripple of laughter spread down the corridor, and was evidently struggling to think up a response. Harry was feeling completely lost. What on earth had his mother done to cause James to hurt Snape so badly?

Dumbledore chose this moment to step out of the passage.

"Miss Evans, Mr Potter," he said in a clear, deep voice, and the rumble of students' chatter died down. "I think Severus is in need of Madam Pomfrey's aid. If someone would go and fetch her…? Thank you, Miss Fairling. Now, you two – I will see you in my office in exactly five minutes."

With that, Dumbledore turned around, sweeping down the path the students cleared for him and left the scene. Harry stayed with his parents, who were still glaring at each other.

"Come on, James." After a while, a thin boy with brown hair – the teenage Remus Lupin – emerged, unsmiling, from the crowd and put his hand on James' shoulder, steering him forward. "Let's go."

"Don't worry, Prongs, he deserved what he got," muttered Sirius, clapping James' back and starting to walk towards Dumbledore's office. "But I think you might've been a bit tactless, mate, with Evans and all that, you know…."

James followed Lupin and Sirius as though in a daze. Harry noticed Peter Pettigrew slipping out of the crowd to join them, wide-eyed. Lily waited until the hurrying form of Madam Pomfrey appeared at the end of the corridor, then she too left in silence, students moving back to let her through as they had for Dumbledore.

Five minutes later, Harry was back in Dumbledore's office, this time in the company of his parents. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk as usual, his slender fingertips touching and the bright-blue gaze Harry knew so well fixed, for once, not on him but on his father. James half-heartedly tried to stare Dumbledore down, but after a second his gaze dropped to the floor.

Dumbledore's face was very sombre as he spoke. "Perhaps you, Mr Potter, would like to explain to me first exactly what happened before I arrived on the scene just now. It appears I missed the excitement."

James took a breath and began to speak, but then stopped, biting his lip and shaking his head silently.

Lily's green eyes were still full of angry fire, and now she said with a quiet fierceness, "Professor, James attacked Severus for no good reason! Just because I – I was with him in the corridor."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore softly. "And was this any incentive for James to perform such violent magic on a fellow student?"

"They weren't just together." James' voice was so low Harry could hardly hear him. "They – they –"

Lily looked at James, with one eyebrow raised.

"They were kissing!" James finally burst out, his voice shaking uncontrollably.

The room fell utterly silent. Harry stared at his father's anguished face, stunned, and in that moment he knew that it must be true. Horrified, rigid with shock and unseen by everyone in the room, Harry collapsed into a small chair. One look at his mother's expression confirmed everything. Harry, his mind screaming denial, could not tear his gaze from her face. His mum…his mum and _Snape_…. With these words playing over and over in his brain, Harry barely heard Dumbledore's next words, which were quiet, calm and firm.

"James, you would do well to remember that the lives of others are never, or should never be under our control ... Severus was well within his rights. I shall expect you to go now to the hospital wing and give the poor boy a full apology when he wakes for the grievous damage you did to him. I think a detention is also in order."

James' mouth twisted at this; Harry guessed the detention meant very little to him, but the apology was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Miss Evans, you have done nothing reprehensible – you may return to your classes…."

Harry felt the chair beneath him dissolve into nothingness, as without warning the room went black. He dropped through emptiness until light and colour returned, and he found himself in a very different memory. A glance around him showed Harry at once that he was in the staff room at Hogwarts, which was full of teachers, some whom Harry did not recognise. Outside the window, the sky was cloudless, darkening, and studded with very faint stars; it was twilight. Dumbledore was seated comfortably in a high-backed armchair, sipping tea and listening to the conversation of those around him.

The peace was shattered by the slam of a door right behind Harry. Unprepared, he jumped and turned to see the adult Snape standing there, his normally collected, expressionless face more agitated than Harry had ever seen.

"Headmaster!"

"Severus, whatever is the matter? You have come to report?" Dumbledore rose from the chair to face Snape, his blue eyes searching and alert.

"I have made a terrible mistake, Headmaster, there is very little time –" Snape was breathless, distraught, and Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.

"Please excuse us," he said, addressing the other teachers. "We need a little privacy."

And Dumbledore swept out of the staffroom, motioning Snape to follow. Harry slipped hastily out of the door behind them. Dumbledore strode to the Entrance Hall, opened the front doors, and stepped out into the grounds. Harry followed them, looking at Snape with a quiet, boiling anger. To think this man had ever dared go out with his mother…the first shock of the revelation over, Harry did not feel any more disposed to regard Snape as innocent.

"What has happened, Severus?" said Dumbledore calmly once the great doors closed behind them.

"The Secret-Keeper has betrayed the whereabouts of the Potters."

Dumbledore stopped walking and stared at Snape's shadowed face. "You have proof of this?"

"The Dark Lord informed us hardly less than a quarter-hour ago. He has ordered an attack in Godric's Hollow tonight."

There was a silence, in which Snape twisted his fingers together in agitation. Then Dumbledore spoke.

"You did well to come so quickly…but such treachery..." His voice was low and sad. "When friends turn on friends, the darkness has truly begun to prevail…."

"Headmaster, there is more." Snape spoke with a desperate, agonised urgency. "Till tonight I did not know the consequences of my actions, but the prophecy –"

"I know that you overheard Sybill Trelawney that night at the Hog's Head last year."

"It was I – before I left the Dark Lord's service for yours, I told him what I had heard, but I did not know whom the prophecy concerned. If I had realised it was Lily – Headmaster, you know – you remember my schooldays, I would never have wished her any harm, and now, if anything happens, I am to blame –"

"Severus, listen to me," said Dumbledore sharply. "Now is not the time for remorse. We must act, and with haste."

Snape inclined his head. "I will do anything, Headmaster, to reverse what I have done. Give me your orders."

Harry had been watching Snape closely through this exchange and now found himself confused, doubtful. Snape's repentance and anguish seemed genuine, but Harry knew all too well how good an actor he was. As he stared at his old Potions Master, his mind torn with uncertainty, darkness descended around him like a mist, and Harry fell through nothingness into yet another time and place.

Around him was dust, rubble, and torn furniture – the ruins of a small house. Dread crept into Harry's stomach, and as he gazed around, seeing the nearby woods and the smashed baby's cot lying amongst the broken stone, he realised that this must have been his parents' house, his house, just after it was destroyed. He looked at the patterned wallpaper still clinging bravely to a half-standing wall and felt sick.

A small sound, like crumbling brick, came from behind him and Harry turned to see Dumbledore once again, this time standing gravely amid the ruins, the edges of his long white hair and beard glowing gold in the early morning sun. Sitting on a chunk of smashed stone at his feet was Severus Snape, his face gaunt and drawn.

"I suspected you might be here, Severus. However, it would not be wise to stay overlong; before long, the Muggle police will come to investigate." When Snape made no answers, Dumbledore said quietly, "You must not judge yourself too harshly, Severus. Time was against us last night."

Snape remained silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and harsh. "I am not sorry that Potter is dead." Unseen and unheard, Harry swore at him.

But Dumbledore only sighed heavily, and did not speak.

"What happened to the boy?"

"Harry has been taken into the care of relatives. He will be safe there, if nothing else."

Snape looked up at this, his greasy curtains of dark hair falling back to show his hooked nose in sharp relief against the lightening sky. He said slowly, "What does he look like?"

"Harry? He is a mere infant; however, he has black hair and already is beginning to bear a resemblance to James."

"I had expected him to have red hair."

"He is James' son, too, Severus. But he has Lily's eyes."

Snape stood up abruptly. "I am leaving, Headmaster."

"Well, I did not expect you to remain sitting on that cold block of stone any longer than necessary. It does look rather uncomfortable."

Snape brushed down the front of his robes impatiently. "No, Headmaster, I am leaving the country. I have done too much damage; to stay here is to create more evil. I must leave; if not to do any good, at least to do no more harm…."

Dumbledore surveyed Snape from under his bushy eyebrows, but only waited in silence. When Snape spoke again his voice was very low, so that Harry had to strain to hear his next words.

"She died because of me."

"You did not raise up your wand against her, Severus, you did not speak the words of the Killing Curse! Yes, you did wrong, but you can make up for it; to flee the country in self-pity is not the way."

"There is nothing else I can do."

"Yes, there is," said Dumbledore simply. "Lily and James' deaths do not mean that your job as Potions Master has evaporated. I need a teacher, and you are a remarkable hand at Potions."

"Teaching…." said Snape slowly. "I hate students, did you know that?"

"Hate is not a word to be used lightly, Severus."

"Very well; I merely despise them. But you are the one man who has stood beside me all this time, Headmaster, and if that is your wish, I will obey. I will Vow."

Dumbledore met his gaze. "Is that really necessary?"

"Now I am without aim, without direction; once I saw power on the side of evil, but Lily's death, and my responsibility for it…" Snape seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud.

"You alone have trusted me, Headmaster, despite what I have done. I am not well practised at trusting people, but perhaps you can teach me. I swear obedience to you, for as long as we both live." And he extended his claw-like hand. Dumbledore was slow to take it.

"Severus, do you realise what such a Vow could lead to? I am a complicated, silly old man, and I do not always choose the right course. Sometimes trying to be too clever backfires rather nastily; I am not sure you would wish to obey my every whim. It would grow tiresome."

"I am sure. Lily should have lived to see her son grow up. I will teach other children my skills, if you so wish, and Harry too, when he comes to Hogwarts. I offer you my service; this is merely a binding oath. For my sake as much as yours."

And, very slowly, Dumbledore raised his arm and grasped Snape's hand in his. "So be it." He lifted his wand in his other hand, and placed it on their clasped fingers. "Severus Snape, do you vow to obey me, Albus Dumbledore, in every duty I ask of you?"

"I do." A thin rope of flame streamed from the wandtip and entwined itself around their hands.

"And do you promise never to depart again from the side of good, and never to seek power or shelter in dark magic and old habits?"

Snape met Dumbledore's eyes, as Harry stood watching, his doubts about Snape slowly and reluctantly, but surely, fading away. If Snape agreed to this one…what was it Ron had said about Unbreakable Vows? For surely this was one of them. Harry's own words came back to him; "_So what happens if you break one, then?"_ and Ron's simple answer; "_You_ _die."_

Snape spoke. "I do."

Harry stared at him in that early morning light, and felt the beliefs he had clung to for so many years come crumbling down.

Another tongue of flame shot out from the binding wand, curling about the wrists and hands of the two men in a dancing, fiery rope.

Dumbledore spoke just once more.

"Thank you, Severus."

* * *

**Author's Note: I know this chapter was a long time coming but believe me, I have not given up on the story. I'm just really busy. ****I got a truly amazing response for my last chapter so thanks so much everyone for that – love you all! Special thanks to mamacita-san for a great beta-ing job!**

**Please review!!**


	15. At the Lake

Disclaimer: You never know, maybe JKR secretly writes fanfiction for fun sometimes (yeah...) but it's not this one.

* * *

The memory dissolved, Harry descended into the familiar blackness and landed, staggering, in Dumbledore's office – in the present time, he was glad to see.

The portrait of Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly.

"I am sorry you had to see those memories, Harry."

Harry had to pause a while to collect his thoughts, which were flying all over the place. He was not used to such intense sessions of truth-revealing. Dumbledore waited in silence, as did all the other dozens of headmasters and mistresses who were watching him from their frames with avid curiosity.

After a while, Harry said slowly, "It cleared things up a lot, I suppose. Him and my mum, I mean. And I apologise – you were right about Snape all along. Because he would be dead now, wouldn't he, if he had broken the Vow never to go back to the Dark side?"

The Dumbledore in the frame bowed his head in agreement. "He would. And Harry, Lily did not go out with Severus for very long; in fact, as I recall, the incident where James broke his nose and knocked him unconscious in his anger took place at the end of their sixth year. James and Lily, though none of us teachers expected it, became a couple sometime in the early stages of their final year at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. The thought of his mother and Snape ever having kissed still grossed him out a lot, but he tried his best to push it out of his mind for now.

"But I still don't see," said Harry slowly, "why he had to kill you..."

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses upon his nose, and spoke again. "Well, now, that is a complex matter, rather unfortunate really...you see, I had ordered him to return to spy on the Death Eaters, and to keep his cover no matter what. But I did not foresee what would come of this... Severus came to me barely a week before last school year commenced, bearning the news that he had had an encounter with Narcissa Malfoy, who asked him to make another Unbreakable Vow, a Vow to protect Draco Malfoy."

Harry followed this as best he could. "So he had to agree to keep up the pretence that he was a true Death Eater?"

Dumbledore nodded. "To refuse would have shown his reluctance to commit to the Dark side, and in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was present, would have proved his loyalty to me. Torn by his own wishes and my orders to remain undercover, Severus had to Vow to kill me should Draco not succeed."

"Couldn't you have ordered him never to kill you?" said Harry. "He would have had to obey, because of the first Vow."

"That would have resulted in his inability to act under the terms of the second Vow. He would have died."

"Better him than you," muttered Harry mutinously.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, Severus asked me to do just that: order him not to kill me. I refused, for who am I to decide that my life is worth more than his? No, I ordered him to keep his cover, to stay obedient to the Vow he made with Narcissa and yes, to kill me when the time came."

Harry was speechless.

"It was better that way, though Severus wanted it even less than I. He grew angry with me, tried to force me to let him him off the hook. Once again, I refused. You saw his expression when he raised his wand to utter the Killing Curse, Harry...I am afraid he remained angry with me up till the very end. However, he evidently realised that refusing to kill me there would have resulted in not only his death but mine too. I was rather defenceless, I must say.

"And now that we have cleared that up, Harry," said Dumbledore in a voice that clearly showed that the subject was closed, "it is time to move on to perhaps more pressing matters. As a mere picture on a wall I cannot help you much, but I would like you to tell me everything – every single thing – that you have discovered so far regarding those three remaining Horcruxes." He folded his long-fingered hands and waited.

Harry hesitated, not knowing where to begin. There was so much they had discovered, so much they were still unsure about. But slowly, hesitantly, he began to speak. He told his former Headmaster of Moaning Murtle's Ravenclaw ancestry, of the opal necklace which he believed to be a Horcrux, he told him how they had tracked down the golden necklace, and he disclosed his theory concerning Regulus Black. It was a great comfort to be able to talk to Dumbledore like this again; portrait or not, there was something about talking to the old man that made Harry feel safe. Dumbledore listened in silence throughout Harry's speech, only giving an occasional nod.

"So, basically," concluded Harry, "the locket's safe at Grimmauld, we're pretty sure the opal necklace is a Horcrux, and, er – we have no idea about Hufflepuff's cup."

In the portrait, Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "That is good, Harry, very good indeed. You have done well. And now," he added, smiling from under his white moustache, "It is my turn to contribute to our quest. I have had much time to think while stuck on this wall, and I have several ideas, though some will, of course, be wrong..." He paused, running one long-fingered hand through his silvery beard.

"We hoped you could tell us what you did with the necklace, sir," Harry ventured. He was glad when Dumbledore nodded again.

"Oh, yes, if the necklace is a Horcrux – and it certainly does seem possible, even probable – then retrieving it should not present too much of a problem. No, I was wondering what you would say if I told you my suspicions concerning the whereabouts of Hufflepuff's cup."

"You think you know where it is, sir?" Harry leaned forward at once, all ears.

"I have a notion that it may be closer than you think," said Dumbledore. "It may just be the whim of a silly old man, but Harry, I do believe that the cup is hidden within this very castle."

There was a small silence.

"In – in Hogwarts, sir?" Harry looked at the picture of his old Headmaster doubtfully.

"That's the one," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "And can you not guess where in the castle?"

"Er – "

"Why, the place where he fulfilled his childhood dreams of power, where he learned to kill, the place where he proved to himself that he was more than a Riddle, of course."

And Harry realised. "The Chamber of Secrets!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Very good again. To Riddle, the Chamber would have been more than a slimy dark cavern filled with rat bones; it was the place where he gloried in the knowledge of his Slytherin heritage, and learned that he could make the mightiest of snakes, the Basilisk, do his bidding. What better place to hide a portion of his soul than a Chamber to which even the greatest wizards did not have access, that he alone could open? And you, Harry, because of the power he transferred to you when he gave you that scar."

Harry shivered. The thought that he had a little bit of Voldemort in him, however unconnected from his own soul, still made him uncomfortable. Dumbledore continued placidly.

"The Basilisk, of course, would have been a perfect guardian for a Horcrux. While the snake was alive, no sensible wizard would venture into the deeps to regain a mere cup. Most would not even have dared to face it to retrieve a young girl, especially when armed only with a Hat, a sword, a bird, and two years' worth of magical education."

Harry looked up. Dumbledore was smiling. Then the headmaster continued briskly.

"I suggest you investigate the Chamber again, Harry, and in the meantime you could set about regaining the necklace. It should not be too difficult for a master like you."

Harry waited for more information, but none seemed forthcoming. "Um, right," he said, not wanting to seem rude. "So – so where is it, sir?"

Dumbledore looked apologetic. "Ah, yes. Well, Harry, I regret to say that in my reluctance to keep it in my office, and also to destroy it in case any cursed shards of opal fell into innocent hands, I put the necklace somewhere rather difficult to access. I cast it into the depths of the Hogwarts lake."

"The lake?" said Harry, horrified. "But how're we ever supposed to find it in there? It'd be like the whole Triwizard thing again!"

"Exactly right," said Dumbledore serenely. "And as I said, it should be no problem to such a master as you. Good luck."

Harry stared dumbly at his old headmaster. "But – "

Dumbledore merely smiled again, and bowed his head. Harry understood himself to be dismissed and so, still trying to work out whatever Dumbledore could mean, he rose reluctantly, walked to the door and exited the room.

_I cast it into the depths of the Hogwarts lake_. Dumbledore's words played over and over in Harry's mind as he walked through the castle towards the Entrance Hall, and the more he thought about it, the more mystified Harry became. What did Dumbledore mean, he was a master? Did his former headmaster expect him to steal some more Gillyweed and dive into the lake to search, as he had done in his fourth year? But the lake was huge; covering a good fifth of the Hogwarts grounds; it was even difficult to define objects on the other side – finding a tiny necklace in its watery depths could take days, even weeks. Walking along, frowning, Harry was not even aware of the light footsteps sounding behind him, until a dreamy voice spoke in his ear.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry spun around, and found himself face to face with Luna Lovegood.

"Luna! How're you doing?" Harry spoke automatically, while looking round in alarm for other students; though he was rather pleased to see Luna again, he realised that he had forgotten to put his Invisibility Cloak back on after leaving the office.

"I heard you were looking for Voldemort," said Luna almost absentmindedly; her gaze was fixed vaguely on a point somewhere behind Harry's left ear. "Is it fun?"

Harry was taken aback. "Fun?" he repeated.

"It must be rather exciting, really," said Luna dreamily. "Rather like looking for a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, in a way."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Um, Luna, I'm sorry but I'd better be going – " The corridors were still deserted, and Harry guessed that most of the other students were eating dinner in the Great Hall; nevertheless, he was not keen on the idea of meeting Filch or even being glimpsed by a portrait – the news would spread round the school like wildfire.

"Oh, okay," said Luna wistfully. "So you didn't come back to Hogwarts to stay, then…I hoped you had. You were one of the people who used to talk to me."

As he looked at the slightly eccentric-looking girl in front of him, Harry felt distinctly guilty. "Are – are you lonely here, Luna?"

"Oh, only sometimes," said Luna. "I have a friend now, see." And she plunged her hand into the pocket of her robes, bringing out a plump white mouse, whose shower of whiskers twitched wildly as it stared at Harry.

"Her name is Mildew. Daddy gave her to me." The mouse blinked at him.

Before Harry could comment, there was the sudden sound of clattering footsteps and what seemed like several dozen first and second years came bursting round the corner. Harry stepped backwards in a sudden panic, and the students in the first wave nearly fell over as they stopped dead, staring at him, and were walked into by those behind them.

"It's Harry Potter!"

"WhatWhy's he here?"

"Hey – hey, Harry! Is it true you're destined to fight You-Know-Who?"

"It's _Harry Potter!_"

Harry swore under his breath, said rather stupidly to the general public, "No, it's not!" and before the crowd of students could say another word, he had fled round a corner, thrown the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders and flattened himself against a wall.

"Where'd he go?"

"Was that really him?"

"Whoa – I've actually seen _Harry Potter!_"

Good for you, Harry thought grimly as he let the young students wander unsuspectingly past him. When they had gone, Harry didn't dare take off his Cloak in case another lot came along, but he moved back over to Luna, who was standing rather forlornly in the corridor, stroking Mildew's head, and said quietly to her, "Bye, Luna. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Harry," said Luna. "Good luck, and have fun." And she moved off, without a backward glance, her radish earrings swinging as she turned a corner. Harry watched her go, still feeling sorry for her, but when she had disappeared from sight he knew he had to get on. So Harry crept cautiously along the corridors, taking care not to trip or sneeze when he was near anybody. As he saw Horace Slughorn striding purposefully towards the Great Hall and, presumably, his dinner, Harry made up his mind on the spur of the moment.

Swiftly and silently he sped down to the dungeons, along the long, dingy corridor, and into Slughorn's office. The door of an adjoining room was slightly open; Harry looked inside and found what he had been hoping for – the Potion Master's private stores. He pushed aside boxes of dragon fangs, Demiguise toenails and sinister-looking dried tentacles before he found it: a large jar of Gillyweed. Harry grabbed a couple of handfuls of the slimy plant, feeling distinctly guilty as he did so, stuffed them into his pocket, and made to exit the store cupboard. A noise outside made him stop dead.

"Horace? Is that you? I brought you the Windleweed you wanted – oh." Professor Sprout had pulled the door of the cupboard open wide, and Harry held his breath as she squinted into the small room. In her hand was a large basket of long, dark-green reeds, which were squirming slightly. The surprised professor pushed her flyaway hair back over one ear with an earth-covered finger, still looking into the store cupboard in confusion.

"I could've sworn I heard – oh, well I'll just leave them here for him to find when he gets back," she muttered to herself, laying the basket on the desk. She left the room without looking back, and Harry breathed again. As soon as he thought it safe, Harry followed her, taking care to leave the cupboard door slightly ajar, as he had found it. He reached the Entrance Hall without further incident, but was sorry to hear whispers everywhere, already, that Harry Potter had been seen in Hogwarts, and had been conversing alone with "that Loony Lovegood".

Harry waited until the Entrance Hall was completely clear of students, ghosts and teachers, then slipped out of the front doors and into the grounds, which, in the late afternoon, were illuminated by the weak winter sun. As he approached the lake, Harry was more than a little surprised to see three familiar figures standing at the water's edge, peering in the direction of the castle. Harry sped over as quickly as possible, skirted them swiftly and silently, stopping only once when he thought he heard the crack of a twig in the trees beside the lake. But he could see nobody, and telling himself that he was being paranoid, Harry turned away from the Forbidden Forest. Ron, Hermione and Ginny seemed to have noticed the front doors open and close by themselves, and were staring in that general direction, but they were completely unprepared when Harry sneaked up behind them and let loose a Tickling Charm.

"_Rictusempra!_"Hermione and Ginny shrieked and began to laugh uncontrollably as the Charm hit them. Ron yelled, "Oi! Cut that out!" between great gasping chuckles, as Harry took off his Cloak with a flourish and grinned.

Harry stopped the spell with a quick "_Finite!_" then raised his eyebrows as his three friends straightened up, panting.

"Boy, those Death Eaters won't even need Unforgivable Curses for you lot…they could just use a Tickling Charm and you'd all collapse," he joked. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he added.

"Oh, this crabby old guy in a portrait in your room came and told us that we were supposed to meet you here," said Ginny, regaining her composure and shrugging.

"That would be Phineas," said Harry. "Sirius' great-great-grandfather. He's got another portrait in Dumbledore's office, and he can move between the two."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, that was him. Anyway, he said it was Dumbledore's orders. What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about, anyway?"

Harry hesitated. He didn't feel inclined to share the news about his mother and Snape's brief relationship; it was still too new and shocking to him, and he was uncertain how they would react. "He – wanted to tell me about the Horcruxes," he said finally, and told them Dumbledore's theory about Hufflepuff's cup being concealed in the Chamber.

Hermione and Ron both looked excited and relieved upon hearing of the possible close proximity of the Horcrux, on which they had had no leads before now, but Ginny merely bit her lip.

"So – we'll have to go back in there to get it?" she said quietly. She attempted to sound casual, but a tremor ran through her words nevertheless. Harry shook his head.

"Not you," he said firmly. "It should be an easy matter with the Basilisk gone, and no one expects you to have to face going in there again, so don't worry."

Ginny looked slightly embarrassed, as though she thought she was being babied, but she did not press the matter. It was obvious that her experiences down in the Chamber with Tom Riddle still stood out with horrible clarity in her mind. After a second, she spoke again.

"This Phineas – he said we had important business to do at the lake?"

"Yes, we do," said Harry in a low voice, checking that they really were alone before continuing. "That's the other thing I talked to Dumbledore about. The necklace is in there."

"What, the opal necklace? The Horcrux?" said Ron, looking bewildered. "What's it doing in the lake?"

"Dumbledore didn't realise what it was – he chucked it in there to stop it harming anyone again," said Harry over his shoulder, whist fumbling in the inner pocket of his robes for the Gillyweed. Ginny gazed out at the glassy lake, not a ripple disturbing its icy smooth surface, as Harry pulled the Gillyweed, slimy and rubbery as rat-tails, out of his pocket. He turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I'm going to have to go in and search for it," he said.

"What?" said Hermione, looking both surprised and alarmed.

"It's okay," said Harry hastily. "This is Gillyweed, Ron – that's what I used to get down to rescue you last time. And there's no point in all of us going in, there's not enough of it for four anyway," he added as Hermione opened her mouth again in protest.

"It's okay," he repeated before either of them could say a word. "It's better if I go alone, I've done it before."

"Harry –" said Hermione, looking at him as though he'd gone crazy, but Harry shook his head.

"I told you, it's fine. I'll be back in an hour; if I haven't found it by then, I'll go back down. Don't worry about me," he repeated, and he crammed a handful of Gillyweed into his mouth.

"_Harry,_" said Hermione, in exasperation. Harry attempted to look reassuring, which was difficult with his mouth stuffed full of foul-tasting vegetation, but Hermione threw up her arms impatiently. "Harry, if you'd let me get a word in, perhaps I could tell you just how much easier it would be to use a simple Summoning Charm?"

Harry stopped chewing and gazed at her. Ron snorted, and Harry spat the entire mess of half-chewed Gillyweed onto the grass.

"Finally," said Hermione.

Ginny was grinning, and Harry put his forehead against the trunk of a nearby beech tree, feeling like a complete idiot. Why had he not thought to summon the Horcrux, instead of preparing to dive in and look for it as though he had never heard of a wand?

"Okay, I admit it," he finally announced to the tree. "I was trying to be noble, because I didn't want to put you lot in danger again, and yes, I will try to stop doing that." He turned around. "Okay, right…a Summoning Charm. Should be fun. Let's just hope it's strong enough to find the necklace in there; that lake's pretty deep."

The three of them moved far back to give Harry breathing space to perform the charm. When he was ready, Harry took a deep breath, raised his wand, and said clearly into the crisp, cold air, "_Accio necklace!"_

For a few seconds nothing happened. Harry continued to concentrate all his brainpower on the glittering purple jewels, the "string of death" as Regulus Black had so aptly named it. Then a sudden tremor shook the middle of the lake, and a tiny ripple shuddered across the water. The ripple swelled rapidly, and within seconds a whirlpool began to form. It grew larger and faster until it seemed the lake was being sucked inwards by a huge force. The powerful mass of gleaming green water twisted and surged downwards, deeper and blacker in its very heart, until suddenly, from the very centre, a tiny object came flying out; an object which flashed purple in the pale sunlight. Harry's heart leapt, and as the dripping opal necklace came hurtling towards him, he unthinkingly dropped his wand and put out both hands to catch it.

"Harry, NO!" Hermione and Ginny screamed together in horrified panic, both tearing towards him, but Ron got there first. Before the necklace had reached its target, Ron threw himself bodily at Harry, and knocked him over, out of its path. With a small wet _plop_, the cursed Horcrux landed harmlessly in the soft mud by the side of the lake. Slowly, the swirling waters calmed and grew still, until they were as glassy smooth as before. Harry lay panting on the muddy grass with Ron sprawled on top of him. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds,; then Harry, still shocked at the stupidity of what he had been about to do, croaked, "Ron…thanks for that."

The words seemed inadequate but Ron merely grunted, "No problem. Just, uh, just don't try that again, okay?" Painfully, they untangled themselves and stood up. Harry, straightened his glasses, still feeling slightly dazed by the enormity of what he had nearly done, though judging from Hermione and Ginny's white faces, they had been utterly terrified.

"Sorry about that," said Harry, then tried to restore some normalcy to the situation. "Right. We should probably get on. Um, Hagrid did invite me for tea after I went to see Dumbledore, but I wasn't expecting to have got this." He gestured at the necklace, which gleamed evilly from its position in the mud. "We should get it back to Grimmauld as soon as possible. Hagrid will understand."

There was a pause while the others digested this, then Hermione agreed. "Yes – we'd better not let it out of our sight until it's destroyed, and we need to sort out the locket soon, too. Lupin came back to Grimmauld while you were with Dumbledore's portrait, Harry, so we can ask him for help when we get back."

"Cool," said Ron, and Ginny nodded slowly in agreement, still looking slightly pale with shock.

"Let's get going, then," said Harry. He pulled off his scarf and knelt beside the necklace. Remembering vividly the last time he had done this, with Hagrid pounding off towards the castle holding a screaming Katie Bell in his arms, Harry carefully wrapped the Horcrux in the scarf until it was completely covered. Hermione put a simple Binding Charm on the scarf to stop it unwinding, and they set off towards Hogsmeade to Apparate back home, the covered-up Horcrux tucked tightly under Harry's arm.

Not one of them noticed when, barely a minute after they had left the lakeside, a tall figure emerged silently from the trees where Harry had earlier heard the sound of a snapping twig. The figure stood peering after their retreating backs, then stealthily followed, taking extreme care to remain well out of sight.

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**A/N: To my anonymous reviewers, seeing as I can't PM you – thank you!! And again, many thanks to mamacita-san, my eagle-eyed beta. **

**Please review!**


	16. Follower in the Shadows

Disclaimer: I think we know the drill by now, right? I say that the characters belong to Rowling and blah blah blah, you all roll your eyes and mutter "get the hell on with the story…."

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The icy wind nipped at Harry's fingers as they turned the corner into Hogsmeade station, and the four of them drew their cloaks more tightly round their shoulders, shivering. 

"Fancy a Butterbeer?" Ron's teeth were chattering.

The Three Broomsticks did look welcoming, its clean windows filled with soft light from inside, and though the Horcrux weighed heavily under his arm, Harry weakened.

"Just a quick one," he nodded.

The pub was surprisingly full; perhaps with Christmas so soon upon them, the need to go shopping was more pressing than fear of the Death Eaters. Eager to avoid notice, Harry chose a table away from the main bulk of the crowd, while Ron went to fetch drinks. Hermione and Ginny slipped gratefully into their chairs. Slipping the scarf-covered Horcrux carefully under his cloak, Harry breathed in the warm, Butterbeer-scented air, and relaxed in his chair as he listened to two old witches discussing their Christmas purchases.

"Give me a hand, won't you?" Ron was back, carrying four foaming tankards of hot Butterbeer and balancing a large plate of golden-brown sugar-buns with extreme difficulty. Harry took his tankard and warmed his fingers on it, revelling in the sensation of warmth coming back to his frozen hands.

"Thought these things looked good," said Ron, nodding at the plate of buns as he slid into his seat. "There were these big muffins, too, with some kind of nuts on top – I was going to get those, but Rosmerta told me she preferred the buns because –"

"I've got to tell you something," said Harry, cutting through Ron's rambling. He had decided that this was as good a moment as any. "It's about Snape…."

And so he related to them in undertones everything he had seen and heard in the Pensieve. By the time he reached the part about the two Unbreakable Vows, Ginny's eyes were as wide as saucers. When he finished, the table was very quiet; it was a lot of information for them to digest at one time.

"I suppose it makes sense," said Hermione, eventually. "I always thought that if Professor Dumbledore trusted Snape enough to make him a teacher, he must have had pretty firm grounds for trusting him."

Ginny still looked doubtful.

"Snape's still definitely a complete git," Harry told her. "And he still hates my guts. But I think Dumbledore's right – even though Snape's evil, he's no Death Eater."

"He acts like one," argued Ron. His Butterbeer had grown cold without him noticing.

"He stopped the Death Eaters killing Harry last June," said Hermione. "And didn't Dumbledore tell you that Snape saved his life, Harry? The time when his hand was damaged by that ring Horcrux?"

Harry nodded, and reached for the sugar-buns. "Look, I still hate Snape for how he's treated me all these years, and for what he did to Sirius," he assured Ron and Ginny through a mouthful of sweet, crumbly bun. "I don't suddenly love him or anything. But I reckon we're going to have to agree with Dumbledore on this one. I mean, just go along with it, won't you? It's not going to affect us that much, I don't think; we'll just have to protect Snape from our own side if he comes back."

They finished their Butterbeer in silence, each deep in their own thoughts.

"We'd better go," said Hermione eventually. "We should probably get the You-Know-What back home without any more delay."

They stood up reluctantly; the warm inn was much more comfortable than the wintry outdoors. Ron stuffed the last sugar-bun whole into his mouth, and with that, they made their way to the door.

Harry halted abruptly halfway there – Hermione and Ginny both walked into him – for out the corner of his eye, he had spotted something through one of the side windows. He turned and stared in disbelief.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione hissed anxiously as she regained her balance.

For a long moment, Harry couldn't speak. Then –

"_Percy_," he breathed. "Again, following us!"

"_What_?" said Ron and Ginny together.

"I said, it's Percy!" said Harry pointing out of the window. "And he's talking to someone – yeah – it's Dawlish!"

"What?" Ron repeated in annoyance. "How'd he know we were here?"

"Never mind that, I want to know what he's saying to Dawlish," said Harry grimly. "I'm going to find out. C'mon."

They exited the inn, and when the door shut behind them Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket. Wordlessly, the four of them crowded close, and Harry flung the Cloak over their shoulders. It was a struggle to cover all of them, but jammed tightly together they managed it. As quickly as possible they made their way round the side of the inn, where Percy and the Ministry Auror were talking in low, furious whispers.

"I told you, I don't know why they wanted it," Percy was saying angrily, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting. "It just looked like a necklace, but they must have Summoned it from the lake for a reason."

"And what would Harry Potter be wanting with a piece of ladies' jewellery?" barked Dawlish in frustration. "I doubt the Minister will be satisfied with your report, Weasley. Have you learnt nothing else of interest?"

"They called the necklace a – a Horcrux, I think, sir."

Harry stiffened under the Cloak, and felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. Damn, he thought furiously. _Damn. _Ron swore, very softly, and Hermione elbowed him nervously to make him be quiet. Harry's fingers itched to go to his wand and perform the spell that would wipe Percy's memory clean; but Memory Charms were highly advanced magic, they had not yet been taught them, and he did not know how….

But Dawlish merely looked thoughtful. "A Horcrux, you say? Hm, I don't know what that is, do you, Weasley?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid I don't."

"Well, I'm sure it will be of consequence; you did better than I thought. But I still think you should have followed them into the pub."

"I told you," said Percy irritably. "I'm not about to go into the Three Broomsticks after them. Following them from Hogwarts is a different matter; I think they'd notice if I walked into the room right in front of them!"

"We could be missing out on important information," said Dawlish curtly. "Information which it's your job to collect."

"It poses too much of a risk, sir." The back of Percy's neck was beginning to turn red. "If they knew I was watching them, they'd take extra steps to conceal what they are doing from the Ministry, and you know how much the Minister needs my information!"

"Couldn't the Minister have spared you an Invisibility Cloak, Weasley? It would have saved a lot of hassle."

"There were none," said Percy testily. "All we had are being used by Aurors trying to find You-Know-Who."

Dawlish sighed irritably and glanced through the window into the inn, then stiffened.

"Weasley," he said sharply. "Get going; they've left already while you've been wasting your time gabbing!"

Percy's face was an amusing mixture of offence and panic. "I'll see you later, Dawlish," he said quickly. "I'll find them, they must be close."

Before Harry could stop him, Ron had thrown the Cloak off himself and stepped into Percy's path.

"Yeah, closer than you think, Perce."

Percy stumbled backwards in shock to see his younger brother appear from mid-air, but soon regained his composure. Dawlish's gaze flicked from one to the other, and then, alarmingly, at the very spot at which Ron had appeared, and where Harry and the others were still standing, frozen, beneath the Cloak.

"Ron," said Percy finally, in an unconvincingly casual tone. "What are you doing here? It's not safe, you know, to wander the streets alone nowada–"

A smashing blow from Ron's fist directly in his face stopped Percy mid-speech and he cried out in pain, reeling backwards. Beside him, Harry heard Ginny give a soft, triumphant laugh. Harry found himself gripping her arm, warning her not to reveal herself yet. He still hoped they could get away without causing too much of a scene.

"Now, now, that is quite out of order, young man," the shocked Dawlish began as Percy staggered into him, grasping his shoulder for support.

"You interfering git," spat Ron, ignoring Dawlish and glaring at his elder brother.

"Ron," gasped Percy, whose nose was bleeding and lip swelling up. "Ron, I – I'm disappointed in you –"

"Well, _I'm _not the one Dad's disowned, am I?" shouted Ron. "Why can't you just leave us alone? What we're doing is none of your business!"

"So you _are_ up to something," said Percy swiftly, then continued in a tone of forced calm as he mopped up the blood on his face with a starched pocket-handkerchief. "Listen here, Ron, the Minister wants to help defeat You-Know-Who; his aims differ in no way from your own. He is more than willing to lend you and young Harry all the help you need – a squad of Aurors – Dark Detectors – why, he sent a letter offering all of you Auror training just a few hours ago. If you'd just allow us to help you, if you'd just tell us what you're doing, we have all the resources to aid your success. It's a more than reasonable idea." He finished speaking and waited tensely for an answer. His back was straight, his shoulders thrown back, and he was evidently trying to assume an air of dignified authority, though the effect of this was slightly ruined by the large blackish-purple bruise rising on his cheek where Ron had hit him.

"We're not interested in your help, Percy," said Ron disgustedly. "Just keep away from us. You can run back to the Minister now, and suck up to him as usual. But if you tell him _anything_ that you heard from us, you'll regret it. I won't be seeing you." He turned away to go.

"What are these Horcrux things, then?" shouted Percy desperately at Ron's back. "And what do you want with that necklace?"

Harry clenched his fists, sorely tempted to reveal himself. But he was scared that in a confrontation with Percy Weasley he might accidentally let some information slip. He wished Ron would hurry up and leave; it was very uncomfortable under the Cloak, trying not to allow any part of his, Hermione or Ginny's bodies to be seen.

Ron did not turn round. He merely said through a tightly-clenched jaw, "Shut your mouth and don't go shouting that in public. And don't you dare say a word of that to the Minister. Or to anyone else, for that matter."

"Well, we have other ways of getting information," said Percy shortly. "We'll find out what you're up to, and when we do you'll be glad of it."

"What other ways?" said Ron, suddenly, turning round sharply to face his brother again. "How come you always know where we're going, anyway? That day at Aberforth's, we didn't tell anyone about it, only – only –" Ron's voice died on his lips and he stared at Percy with dawning comprehension. "That's why," he said slowly. "That's why Hedwig was late back, and why she was so nervous. You've been intercepting our mail!"

Harry inhaled sharply, thinking back to Hedwig, who they had had to keep cooped up in Grimmauld Place because she was too scared about leaving the house to hunt. His blood boiled, and finally he could stand it no longer. Hermione grabbed his arm as he started forward, but he wrenched it out of her grasp and ducked out from under the Cloak. Percy stepped back as his cold gaze was met by Harry's furious one.

"So, you lie to your own family and spy on your fellow-Gryffindors, capture my owl, and read my letters." Harry was breathing heavily and he gripped his wand tightly beneath his robes, feeling a slow wave of uncontrolled magic flowing up his arm and into his hand…. Then Dawlish's curt voice cut through the cold air.

"Why don't the rest of you show yourself? We all know you're there." His gaze was fixed directly on the spot where Hermione and Ginny were crouched under the Cloak. There was a pause, then the girls suddenly appeared as Hermione reluctantly pulled off the Cloak. Percy avoided Ginny's cool gaze and spoke pompously to Harry, who tried to calm himself.

"We only want to help you, Harry," Percy began. "The wizarding world needs reassurance that the Chosen One is succeeding in his quest. I'm sure you're doing very well," he added hastily. "But if they know you have the backbone of the Ministry behind you, morale will rise sky-high. The population have a lot of faith in you, you realise."

"Well, good for them," said Harry shortly. "We don't want your help. I know what that would be – a load of publicity and reporters like Rita Skeeter sticking their nose into my business every five seconds. No thanks."

"Well, why don't you just let us have a look at that necklace you have hidden under your cloak?" said Percy coaxingly. "I'm rather an expert on artefacts like that, if I say so myself. I could help, you know."

Harry stared at Percy in disbelief and felt a rush of dislike stronger than anything he had ever felt towards the Weasley boy previously.

"You never give up, do you?" he said slowly. "No matter what."

Percy didn't seem to hear. His gaze was fixed on the exact spot under Harry's robes where he had tucked the Horcrux.

"Show me the necklace," he said again, but this time it sounded more like an order. "Let me look at it!"

Harry backed away, slipping his hand into his robes and gripping the scarf-wrapped Horcrux tightly.

"I won't go back to the Minister empty-handed," cried Percy, as Harry, who thought things were getting out of control, readied himself to Disapparate. "Give me it! _Accio!_"

"No!" Harry bellowed in horror and fear as the Horcrux was jerked powerfully towards Percy; his fingers grasped desperately at the ends of the scarf, gripping it with all his strength. For one second in which time seemed to stop, the Binding-Charm which Hermione had placed on the scarf held firm; then, with a terrible wrenching, ripping sound, the scarf was torn away and the purple jewels flashed malignantly in the wintry sunshine, as they zoomed towards Percy's eager outstretched hands. There was a high, petrified scream from Hermione or Ginny, a vicious clinking of opals as the necklace touched Percy's fingertips, and then the Weasley boy crumpled without a sound.

"PERCY!" bellowed Ron, his face suddenly white with sickened fear as he hurtled towards his fallen brother. "No!"

Harry's heart seemed to have stopped; his mouth went completely dry and he, too, stumbled over to Percy's body where it lay awkwardly on the stony ground. Ginny was already knelt there, her fingernails making marks on her cheeks as she clutched them in agitated horror. One glance at Percy's still face and blank eyes told Harry all he needed to know. A prickly feeling of terrible guilt and sadness rose up in his chest and he turned away so he wouldn't have to see the horn-rimmed glasses, which had cracked as their owner hit the ground. All that Harry could think at that moment was, _How can we ever explain this to Mrs Weasley?_ Whatever Percy had done wrong, he was still her son, and Ron and Ginny's brother. Ron, who was rocking back and forth, gripping his hair so hard his knuckles were white, was evidently sharply regretting the harsh words which had passed between himself and Percy in the last moments of his brother's life.

But the shock had barely begun to sink in when Dawlish, who had staggered back against the wall of the inn in dismay when Percy had collapsed, gave a shout and drew his wand. Harry looked up and his stomach lurched, for the door of the Three Broomsticks had opened and now, striding towards them with his hood thrown back, his wand raised and a triumphant glint in his cold grey eyes, was someone whom the sight of made Harry's heart leap in fear; someone who Harry had absolutely no desire to meet at all.

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**A/N: Thanks as always to mamacita-san, my beta, who is amazing even though she just burst my little happy satisfied bubble I was floating around in after having created another of my favourite cliffhangers. Because she immediately guessed who the 'someone' is at the end. Honestly...well, okay, so maybe I wasn't hugely subtle, but still...! lol!**

**Anyway, reviews are always cool, guys! Whatcha think of the first character death? I personally had fun writing it, because I don't like Percy, teehee...**


	17. The Battle of Hogsmeade

Disclaimer: Characters still not mine.

**This might not be my best, I've been scarily busy lately. Thanks to Mamacita-san for a great beta-ing job, and to Kokuyo for all the advice and criticism; you two have helped me so much!!**

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Hermione gave a terrified squeak.

"Why, Harry Potter, what a pleasant surprise..."

"You!" Harry glared at Lucius Malfoy with utmost dislike, hand tightening on his own wand.

"Oh, I'd put that away, Potter…you see, resistance is futile." To Harry's horror, more Death Eaters emerged from the doorway of the Three Broomsticks. Screams suddenly issued from inside as people realised they'd been sharing the pub with the country's most wanted killers. Pandemonium broke out; terrified witches and wizards poured out through the doorway, and ran or Apparated away from the scene. Chairs clattered, there was the sound of glass breaking, and shopping bags spilling over with Christmas presents fell unheeded to the ground as their owners fled.

"Now, why don't you just step out of the way and let me retrieve that charming necklace the dead Weasley is holding…."

Everything happened so fast; as the Death Eaters closed in on him, Harry had only one thing on his mind: get the necklace and get out of this place alive.

"_Stupefy!_" he bellowed, moving backwards as quickly as he could to stand in front of Percy's body. Lucius blocked the Stunner, and suddenly curses were flying at Harry from all directions.

Harry dived to one side. As he scrambled up, Shielding himself quickly, he saw Ron and Ginny fighting heroically to fend off the Death Eaters and keep them away from the Horcrux. Several more jets of light shot at him; Harry dodged, and raised his wand quickly.

"_Pyrashio!_" he roared, slashing his wand through the air; the resultant wave of fire that crashed towards the dozens of Death Eaters surrounding him probably saved his life.

"_Stupefy! Impedimenta! Sectumsempra!_" Harry fired off a sequence of effective spells, darting in all directions as he did so to avoid being hit himself. Several Death Eaters fell, but there were too many – any second now he was going to be overpowered.

"_AVEUGLEUS!_" Harry shouted in desperation; the Blinding Charm sent Lucius Malfoy and two others down on their knees, clawing in agony at their eyes. Harry ducked several rays of red light that shot directly at him. "_Expelliarmus! EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Where was Hermione? With a jolt of sick fear, Harry realised she was gone. Ron and Ginny were doing well; still on their feet, they were keeping the Death Eaters away from the necklace, which was clutched in Percy's dead hand. But of Hermione there was no sign.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _Harry only just escaped; he felt the Killing Curse shoot past his left ear. It was Bellatrix Lestrange who had sent it at him; seconds later, she screamed as a well-aimed hex from Ron set her long, dark hair on fire.

"Ron, where's Hermione?" bellowed Harry, but before Ron could answer, there was a loud _crack!_ right beside Harry – Mr Weasley had appeared. Then another _crack!_, and another, and before Harry's astonished eyes half of the Order of the Phoenix Apparated right into the scene.

"Harry!" Hermione was suddenly running towards him, as the confused Death Eaters struggled to cope with this unexpected reinforcement.

A well-aimed spell cracked Harry over the head like a block of ice and he staggered, seeing stars – but he was still conscious, still _alive,_ though the world was rocking before his eyes. Hermione dragged him back, out of the immediate firing line, as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lupin, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Tonks, and all the others began to duel. It was suddenly a full-fledged battle. Harry, his head aching terribly, gaped at Hermione.

"Hermione, what –?"

"I went back to Grimmauld and got everybody there to come as soon as possible –" A malevolent flash of purple light shot their way and they both automatically threw up Shield Charms; it bounced harmlessly away.

The Order was doing well; many Death Eaters were down, and others had fled, but to Harry's horror he saw Order members amongst the fallen. Not knowing whether they were dead or merely unconscious, he and Hermione wordlessly ran forward, back into the battle. As the adrenaline surged through his body, the pain in Harry's head seemed to recede.

A glimpse of a familiar round face surprised Harry – Neville was in the midst of the action. His face pale but determined, he attacked the Death Eaters with an uncharacteristic fierceness. McGonagall was battling a Death Eater nearly twice her size.

There was a sudden, piercing shriek, and Harry almost got hit by a curse as he turned automatically to locate the source of the noise. Mrs Weasley, it seemed, had only just seen Percy's body. But she didn't stop fighting, or even run to his side. Instead she turned on the Death Eaters with twice as much ferocity as before. "Which of you did it?" she shrieked, livid with furious grief. "Take _that!_ And that! And –"

The fighting was beginning to make no sense to Harry. People were falling and screaming everywhere; a Death Eater twice Harry's size stumbled blindly into him, clutching his face in pain. Jets of light were shooting in all directions, and suddenly more people were joining the fight. Harry's brain barely registered that now Ministry Aurors were fighting too – where had they come from? – and that the Death Eaters were slowly but surely getting fewer and fewer.

Every muscle in Harry's body ached, and sweat poured from his forehead into his eyes as he fought to just keep fighting, keep blocking, to stay on his feet….

A sudden, agonising pain pierced Harry's leg, and he stumbled. Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody immediately appeared at his side; they sent a volley of curses at the Death Eater who had injured Harry, who ran, hands over his head, to get away.

And then the Death Eaters were gone. Evidently having realised that the odds were against them, they had given up hope and Disapparated. Harry barely noticed; the searing pain in his leg was beginning to fog his vision, and he sank to one knee. Strong hands jerked him roughly to his feet, supporting him.

"Harry, are you okay?" Lupin's voice was steady though anxious, and he quickly knelt before Harry to examine the damage. Harry pulled himself together – it had been mostly shock that had nearly caused him to faint; he was not badly hurt, there were many times he had felt worse.

"I'm all right," he said to Lupin, determinedly ignoring the fact that the aching pain had returned to his head as the adrenaline drained away, and that his leg was throbbing terribly. "Where's Ginny?"

"She'll be fine," Lupin reassured him. "Just knocked out, she'll come round soon. Tonks is seeing to her."

Tonks was indeed bent over Ginny's prone figure; as Harry watched, concerned, Ginny stirred and woke. Relieved, Harry's gaze swept over the rest of the scene. The place was a mess – bodies were everywhere, in varying states of consciousness. Aurors were moving among the Death Eaters, immobilising and binding them to prevent escape.

"I don't know where Minerva is, though," murmured Lupin in concern, his eyes sweeping over the wreckage. "Unless she's gone to fetch help…."

One of the windows of the Three Broomsticks was smashed, and Madame Rosmerta had crept out of the pub to gaze with horrified eyes at the scene, moaning softly, "Death Eaters in my own pub! Oh, I can't believe this…." Harry met Hermione's eyes from across the clearing; she looked unhurt, but she gestured sadly to where Percy lay. Harry looked over.

Mrs Weasley was bent over Percy's body, all the fight drained from her at last. She did not speak or even cry; she just knelt there, her loose hair hiding her expression, as she gazed upon her son's still face. Mr Weasley was beside her, his whole figure drooping defeatedly. Charlie and Ron had also congregated there. Together, the family made a small, sad group. Harry's insides burned with guilt and sadness, and Lupin saw his expression.

"At least he died fighting for our side," he said gently. Harry stared wordlessly into his old teacher's face; did Lupin imagine that Percy had been killed by Death Eaters before the Order had arrived on the scene? But before he could think of anything to say, a rough, commanding voice barked at them.

"You there, get away from Harry Potter!"

A tall Auror with cold blue eyes and a pale, hard face had noticed Lupin, who let go of Harry's arm as though he had been burned. As the Auror approached, his wand aimed at Lupin's throat, Lupin's body tensed, and his eyes strayed to his wand. He had dropped it on the ground when he bent to help Harry.

"Don't even think about it, _werewolf_," snarled the Auror, and Lupin froze. "Yes, I know who you are, Remus Lupin. I was surprised to read in the papers four years ago about your _condition_…you never let on at school what you were. Did Potter and Black and Pettigrew know what you were?"

Lupin looked at the Auror carefully and his face suddenly took on a closed expression. "Samuel Penwick. Ravenclaw, weren't you?"

Penwick made no answer; he just smiled thinly. More Aurors were coming over. Perhaps they had heard Penwick say the word "werewolf"; in any case, their faces were grim with intent.

"Don't touch him," snarled Harry, reaching for his wand, but two Aurors immediately seized his arms and held him back.

"What's going on? Remus!" Kingsley Shacklebolt was suddenly running over, followed by Hermione, Mr Weasley and a limping Mad-Eye Moody. The ex-Auror didn't seem to have noticed that his arm was covered in blood.

"Remus Lupin, as a werewolf we are placing you under arrest," said Penwick clearly. "You will be escorted to the Ministry, where you will be dealt with accordingly. Take him!"

"No!" said Harry, his mouth dry with fear. He fought angrily against the strong men holding him as the Aurors closed in on Lupin, who made a sudden, desperate lunge for his wand. But he never made it; several ruthless hands gripped his arms and he was pulled back, struggling fruitlessly to wrench himself free.

"Get off him!" shouted Kingsley and Mr Weasley together, brandishing their wands as the Aurors yanked Lupin's arms behind his back.

"_Expelliarmus._" Two hulking, scarred-faced Aurors Disarmed both Mr Weasley and Kingsley before either could speak another word. Within seconds, both had wands pointed warningly at their chests.

"You don't know what you're doing, Penwick," growled Mad-Eye Moody furiously. "Lupin's a good man. Let him go!"

"Yeah, he's done nothing wrong!" said Harry loudly, trying to ignore the fact that the pain in his leg was getting steadily worse and he was beginning to feel light-headed. Hermione seemed too frightened to speak to these grim-faced Aurors, but she backed Harry up by nodding vigorously.

Penwick ignored them all, and bound Lupin's hands tightly with thin cord that shot from the tip of his wand. "Keep out of this, Alastor," he said coldly. "It's Ministry business. He's only a werewolf. I don't know why any of you should be worried about him…unless you are in league with him, Shacklebolt?"

Kingsley hesitated, and Penwick raised an eyebrow. "I think there may be an inquiry into this," he said softly. Then without warning he turned back to the Aurors restraining Lupin. "Take him away," he said. "Tell the Minister this is Remus Lupin, werewolf; he's been hiding from us for a long time."

And before Harry or any of them could speak another word of protest, the Aurors had Disapparated, taking Lupin with them. Harry stopped struggling to get free and instead felt himself go weak. He stared at his shoes, chest constricting, as the words of the newspaper article they'd all read with such horror all those months ago came back to him with numbing clarity: _"Any known werewolf, if found, will be arrested on the spot, interrogated, and if found to have ever endangered any person – wizard or Muggle – legally executed as soon as possible…."_

"Samuel!" A small, lean man with dark hair and a thin moustache came over. "We've found a necklace beside Weasley's body. What should we do with it?"

Harry's head snapped up and he inhaled sharply – he'd forgotten about the necklace. He and Hermione shared an agonised glance.

"It's mine," he said before Penwick could get in a word. "It's – got nothing to do with Percy."

Penwick and the small Auror looked at Harry, as did Moody and Mr Weasley.

"Harry, do you know something about this?" said Kingsley, his deep voice calm yet slightly suspicious. Unable to meet Kingsley's eyes, and certainly not Mr Weasley's, Harry once again addressed Penwick.

"The necklace is mine," he repeated, trying to speak offhandedly. "It's nothing important, honestly." But a note of desperation had crept into his voice. Penwick wasted no more time.

"Take the necklace to the Ministry," he said brusquely. The small Auror nodded and headed back to where Percy lay.

Harry struggled with himself, but he couldn't let someone else die, even if they were going to take away one of the Horcruxes they had searched so hard to find. "Don't touch it with your bare skin," he finally yelled at the small Auror's retreating back, then twisted fiercely round to glare at the strong, dour man still tightly gripping his arms. "And get your hands off me," he snarled. "There are more useful things you could be doing."

The man hesitated, but when he saw that the small Auror had straightened up, holding the necklace in a carefully-gloved hand, he finally loosed his grip. With bitter resentment, Harry watched the small Auror Disapparate, and vowed that he would get that necklace back if it was the last thing he did.

"Hey, you lot – they're taking people to St Mungo's now," came a new voice, and Tonks came to join them. "Or to Azkaban, obviously, if they're Death Eaters. Oh, and you haven't seen Minerva, have you? No one knows where she's gone, unless she went to St Mungo's or something for help…what's going on?" she added curiously, for nobody was anwering her; Moody and Hermione were shooting Samuel Penwick viciously aggressive looks and Harry was seething.

"Tonks," said Shacklebolt gently. "I don't know anything about Minerva, but I'm afraid that Penwick here decided to – to take Remus to the Ministry."

Tonks paled. "What?" she breathed, her eyes wide. "You mean – he's been arrested?"

She did not need an answer; she saw it in Kingsley's sympathetic eyes. With a furious wail, she lunged at Penwick. "What are you going to do with him?" she screamed. "You're going to try to have him executed, aren't you? Well, over my dead body –"

Penwick raised his arms to fend her off, "What is it to you, Tonks?" he snapped. "There's something strange about all this. You and Shacklebolt and Moody, and these kids –" He gestured at Harry and Hermione, who both bristled. "You're all defending the werewolf. I'm going to have to report this to the Minister. You know it's illegal to hide or protect a werewolf, so I hope for your sakes that you have not been doing so."

"What if we have?" said Tonks recklessly, breathing hard; Harry could see that she was fighting back tears. "What can't you people just leave him alone?" She was shouting again, and Penwick stood there, a calculating look in his cold blue eyes.

"Perhaps you should join us for an inquiry at the Ministry, Tonks," he said dryly. "You seem to know a lot about all this. Yes, I think the Minister would like to ask you a few questions – you too, Alastor, Kingsley. Report to the Ministry in ten minutes, or the Minister will be very displeased."

"You think I care what the damn Minister thinks –" muttered Tonks mutinously. "What's going to happen to Remus?"

"Do as you're told, Tonks, if you want to keep your job," snapped Penwick. "I have other business to attend to, namely, the inquiry into Weasley's unfortunate demise. Good day."

And he walked off, leaving a still-shocked, angry, but most of all fearful, group behind him.

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**Please review! I've struggled so much to find writing-time that it'd be extra extra cool to know what you think about this chapter...good or bad...**


	18. The Prophet's News

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters, settings, creatures, spells, or anything else created by JKR. It's quite sad, really…

**Thanks to Mamacita-San for the beta-ing job!!**

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Once they were alone, the biting pain in Harry's leg reminded him that he needed medical aid, and soon. But then Tonks began to speak, and Harry remained quiet, trying not to look like his leg felt as though it were in the jaws of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. 

"What are we going to do?" Tonks was trembling and her voice shook. Sometime in the last five minutes, though Harry hadn't noticed it, her bubblegum-pink spikes had turn thin and mousey; her hair hung limply around her now-pale face.

"We'll sort it out, Tonks," Mr Weasley said quickly. "Somehow or other, we'll help him…."

"If that snooping, lying old lion they call Minister for Magic thinks he's going to execute Remus Lupin, he'll have the whole of the Order to reckon with first," growled Moody, as Tonks merely turned away, rubbing her eyes fiercely with one hand.

"Not all of the Order," she said, her voice slightly muffled. "Not all of them were completely happy about working with a werewolf…Sturgis wasn't…and Diggle –"

"Tonks." Mr Weasley stopped her from going any further. "Trust me; no matter what their views, Sturgis and Dedalus wouldn't like to see Remus, er, sentenced. We'll sort it out," he repeated reassuringly, though he looked tired and troubled. "There will be ways…."

Tonks just sniffed wetly and gave a tiny nod, twisting her wedding ring round and round on her finger.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, sounding alarmed. Mr Weasley and Moody turned around rapidly, concerned. "Oh, no, Harry..." Hermione looked terrified. Harry had only been half-following the conversation. His wound was burning and he felt light-headed and weak. Rather stupidly, he'd stretched his leg experimentally; the result had been alarmingly large black spots that swam before his eyes, and the voices around him turned into a confused roar. He had grabbed Hermione's shoulder in an effort to stop himself falling.

"Harry, are you all right?" Mr Weasley's concerned voice echoed rather oddly in Harry's ears.

"Er," said Harry thickly. "I'm…." The ground rocked before him as he swayed.

"St. Mungo's," said Moody immediately, gripping Harry's arm and yanking him upright. "You up to Apparating?"

It was a stupid question; by that time Harry was incapable of even standing alone. The black spots swelled again, the pain below his knee spread; Harry saw only a confused blur of scared faces whirling before his eyes and a roar like rushing wind in his ears before he fell, as though down a long dark tunnel, into oblivion.

Harry woke to find himself in a very quiet, very white hospital ward. From the dim, fading light outside the window, it seemed to be early evening. The air in the ward was cool and fresh, and everything was gleamingly clean. Harry's bedside was surrounded by bunches of flowers, chocolates, and cards. Silent Healers moved between the few, screened, beds and it was only when Harry reached out his arm for his glasses and tried to sit up that a white-robed woman came bustling over.

"Lie down," the Healer told Harry sternly, pushing him back onto his pillows. "Your leg shouldn't be moved for a while. How does it feel?"

Harry wasn't exactly sure how it felt. It didn't hurt any more, but it was heavy and rather numb. "It's better," he said cautiously.

"Excellent," said the Healer, pulling back a corner of the covers to inspect the bandages. "We're not sure what hit you, but it appears to have been some sort of curse that burnt away relatively slowly at the skin and flesh. We were able to prevent its spread to the rest of your body, and by our calculations it should be back to normal in about a week."

"Good," said Harry, relieved.

"Your friends will be glad to hear it." She smiled at him.

"How long have I been here?" Harry almost dreaded the answer; time was becoming ever more valuable nowadays, and almost every morning brought news of another death.

"About four days," said the Healer, replacing the bedclothes and patting them down meticulously. Harry's heart sank; what could have happened in those four days? Most importantly, what was Lupin's situation?

"You were in the ward for Burns and Stings for a short while, but you had to be moved," continued the Healer, not noticing the anxiety in Harry's face. "There were so many patients trying to get a glimpse of you that the Healers-in-charge had difficulties." She shook her head. "You must get that all the time?"

Harry nodded ruefully, and she smiled again. "Well, now you're in a specialist ward, for your privacy."

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully. "Er – is it all right if I see my friends now?"

"I don't see why not," agreed the Healer amiably. "But not more than five at one time. Any more could disturb the other patients." She inclined her head in the direction of one of the white-screened beds, from which sounds of quiet, erratic snoring came. She crossed the ward and went into the corridor. Harry raised his head again eagerly, and moments later, Ron, Ginny, and a very depressed-looking Hermione entered the room.

"All right, mate?" Ron looked extremely relieved.

"Yeah, not bad," said Harry, motioning for them to sit down on his bed. "I woke up at last, then. You okay, Ginny?" The last time he had seen her she had been on the ground, being revived.

"Yeah, well, I was only knocked out," she said, rolling her eyes. "Apparently it wasn't even by a Death Eater; one of the Aurors misfired a curse; it blew off one of the tiles on the roof of the Three Broomsticks and whacked me over the head."

"Nice one," grinned Harry, as Ron sniggered.

"I always get injured in stupid ways," she muttered. "I twisted my ankle by falling down a step that time in the Department of Mysteries, now this…."

"I dunno why you're complaining, myself," Harry said in surprise. "I'd swap a twisted ankle and a bump on the head for my leg right now."

"Oh, does it hurt a lot?" whispered Hermione sympathetically. "You looked awful just before you passed out..."

Harry shook his head, wishing he hadn't spoken. Hermione looked doleful enough as it was. "It doesn't hurt any more, it just feels like I have a broomstick handle or something instead of a leg. Hermione, what's worrying you? You look like someone's died. Is there something I should know?"

Hermione nodded her head miserably, but seemed unable to say anything more, and Harry's stomach clenched in familiar dread.

"Uh," said Ron cautiously. "We didn't come out too badly in the fight. An Auror died, apparently, but otherwise there's less than a dozen in St Mungo's being treated, and we got plenty of Death Eaters, so the public are pretty happy about that."

"And so's Scrimgeour, I'll bet," Harry put in. "Who was the Auror? Is that the bad news?" Harry was sorry the Auror had died, but – though it made him feel guilty thinking it – if it was nobody he knew personally, it made it easier.

"Dunno who he was," shrugged Ron. "Some old guy. But don't worry about, Harry, you always beat yourself up too much. And no, that wasn't the bad news. McGonagall's still missing," he added, before Harry asked. "We hoped she'd turn up after the battle, but no luck. Nobody has any idea where she could be."

The reason for Hermione's gloom became clear, and Harry himself felt more than slightly panicky upon hearing the news. McGonagall was a capable witch, but she had been gone nearly four days – and disappearing in the middle of battle like that...

"D'you reckon the Death Eaters – took her or something?" he said, biting his lip as he gazed at them searchingly. Nobody answered him; Hermione now seemed close to tears and Ron and Ginny just looked at Harry helplessly.

"I know what happened to her," croaked a voice suddenly from a bed across the room, making all three of them jump.

"Neville," said Ron in surprise. "You're awake too!"

"Neville's here?" said Harry, confused.

"He's been out of it, same as you," said Ginny, getting off Harry's bed to walk over to Neville's.

"They put you two up here because you were both getting so much media attention," Ron informed Harry. "People trying to take photographs, interview the Healers, that sort of thing."

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly. "Did – did Neville just say he knows where Professor McGonagall is?" She looked as though she was coming out of a dream and Harry scratched his head. "Er – I think so."

Hermione was at Neville's side in less than three seconds. "Where?" she shot at him. "Oh, you know where she is?"

"No," said Neville, looking slightly alarmed at the intensity in Hermione's words. Her eager face fell, and Hermione drooped visibly. "But I saw what happened to her," Neville added hastily.

"_What?_"

"She was stunned, I think," said Neville. "By some huge Death Eater. Then – then he grabbed her arm and Disapparated with her…."

Hermione dropped onto Neville's bed despairingly. "Oh, my god…what do they want with her?" she wailed.

"Shh!" Harry's Healer was back. "You'll disturb the other patients…oh! You're awake, Mr Longbottom. How do you feel?"

"Was he badly injured?" Harry asked Ron in an undertone, while they watched the Healer fussing over Neville in a way that was distinctly Madame Pomfrey-like. Ginny helped her sort out the extensive range of brightly-coloured potions on her trolley and tip them into glasses for Neville to drink, but Hermione still seemed too shocked to do anything but sit on Neville's bed with her face buried in her hands.

"He was really lucky," said Ron quietly, his face serious. "Bellatrix fired some kind of curse at him, that was apparently something like the one Hermione got hit by last year, you know? The one that put her in the hospital wing for weeks –"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry impatiently. "So how come he was lucky?"

"Well, he did a Shield Charm, but it managed to get through the shield somehow – I suppose it wasn't strong enough – and that sort of filtered it, made it less dangerous, but still, he was unconscious for ages."

Harry whistled softly. "Yeah, we have been pretty lucky then. Ron – do you know anything about Lupin? I don't know what I've missed while I've been asleep."

Ron fidgeted with a corner of Harry's bedspread. "I – I dunno much. We think there's going to be a trial. Umbridge is all mixed up in it; she's pushing for him to be executed and most people seem to agree with her. But I'm sure Mum and Dad are planning something with the rest of the Order. They won't tell us what, but we walked in on a Order meeting yesterday accidentally – well, sort of accidentally – and they were definitely talking about him."

Harry looked down at his covers, burning up with worry inside. But there was still another thing preying on his mind. "What about – the necklace?" he said in a whisper, dreading the answer.

"We went to the Ministry straight away, all of us, to try to get it back," said Ron, watching Harry carefully. "But it was no go. Don't have a clue where it is, and nobody's letting on."

Harry gritted his teeth. "If only we hadn't gone into the Three Broomsticks," he muttered angrily. "I'm always messing up like this."

"There's – there's more, Harry," said Ron slowly. He sounded nervous, and Harry looked up at him.

"Is it bad?" Harry was apprehensive. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. Silently, Ron opened his bag, drew out a folded newspaper, and tossed it in front of Harry. Then he looked stubbornly at the floor. Harry opened the _Daily Prophet _slowly, dreading what he was going to learn.

It was dated the fifteenth of December; the day after the battle in Hogsmeade. Harry's stomach lurched as he saw the picture on the front page. It was a gigantic, blown-up photograph of the necklace Horcrux, whose purple opals twinkled and glittered sinisterly at him. Beside were two smaller photographs; those of the Auror Dawlish and, to Harry's mounting incredulity and horror, Percy Weasley.

_**FEAR NO MORE – THE BOY WHO LIVED IS ON THE CASE! **_(it read)

_Rumour has long had it that Harry Potter, who has faced You-Know-Who numerous times in his life, is the Chosen One who will free us from the tyranny of the Dark Lord and his supporters. And now, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, he is already on the job! It is a difficult task that Harry faces; far harder than previously supposed. After much research, it has been discovered that You-Know-Who has divided his soul into a number of pieces (as yet unknown) and has concealed them inside certain objects hidden in various secret places. This explains You-Know-Who's invincibility; while these objects survive and parts of his soul remain undamaged, he can not be slain. But fear not; we have a hero to save us all! It is the worthy Harry Potter's daunting task to hunt out these objects, known as Horcruxes, and to destroy them. It is possible that this will weaken You-Know-Who, though our researchers in the Department of Mysteries have admitted __they 'don't really know much about these Horcrux thingamajigs at all.'_

_Harry has done a very good job already – we applaud him for his fantastic work. Already at least one Horcrux has been found (opal necklace, cursed: pictured) and we appeal for the support of every good witch and wizard in the country in this matter. There are still some pieces of You-Know-Who's soul out there; we ask that any information you might have concerning them be delivered to the new Ministry Department set up for this purpose: the Department of Horcruxes. We are still trying to identify the precise nature of the remaining undiscovered Horcruxes._

_The Prophet wishes to recognise the people who brought this truth to light: Ralph Dawlish and Percival Weasley. It is to our very great sorrow we report that Mr Weasley was killed while gathering this invaluable information; this fine wizard should be an example to us all. _(Turn to pages 3 and 4)

"Harry, you're ripping the page." Ron sounded worried; Harry realised he was indeed clenching his fists while he held the paper, and it was beginning to tear. "Harry? Harry, there's nothing we can do about it, we'll just have to keep on go—"

"'We applaud him for his fantastic work,'" quoted Harry in a low and furious voice. "'This fine wizard should be an example…' Can you believe this?" he exploded, slamming the paper onto his bedcovers.

"I know," said Ron ruefully. "Mum would usually be thrilled if one of us made the front page, but she refused to talk to any of us for about two days after she saw Percy in this…."

Harry barely heard him. "They've wrecked everything!" he said angrily. "Dumbledore wanted it all kept secret for a reason…_he_ wasn't bothered about making the damn public know that I'm 'already on the job'! How long will it take for Voldemort to find out?"

Ron bravely ignored the name. "Er," he said cautiously. "We think he already knows. There was a mass Muggle killing the day the _Prophet_ came out, and it wasn't like he was trying to blackmail Scrimgeour or anything. It was just random..."

"He was angry, so he took it out on Muggles," said Harry.

"Yeah, that's what we figured," Ron agreed.

Harry threw the _Daily Prophet _onto the floor bad-temperedly; seconds later, Hermione and Ginny were beside him.

"Ron showed it to you?" said Ginny worriedly. "Oh God, Harry, we couldn't believe it either…it was Dawlish, he told them everything."

"Yes, Dawlish!" spat Harry, enraged. "He'll regret this – I'm going to kill him!" He pushed the covers away and began to pull himself awkwardly out of bed.

"Harry," said Hermione, looking at him with alarm. "What are you – you're not supposed to – when you said 'kill', you didn't really mean –"

"Why, Harry, old bean!"

Fred and George had burst into the ward, beaming. Hermione looked relieved. Harry gazed at them confusedly, half out of bed and his mind still full of thoughts about what exactly he was going to do to Dawlish when he found him.

"Thought we'd see if you were back from the dead yet," said George.

"Mum'll be happy."

"You-Know-Who won't."

"Hey, George – I think we're interrupting something."

"I think we are, Fred. Going somewhere, Harry?"

Harry pushed himself into a standing position, balancing himself precariously on his bandaged leg. "Yes, I am," he said firmly. "I'm going to the Ministry to murder an Auror."

Fred and George exchanged glances.

"Ron," said Fred in a stage whisper. "Did he get hit by a Confundus Charm, too?"

"The Aurors are on our side," George told Harry kindly. "It's the Death Eaters you want."

"Not this time," said Harry, reaching for some robes to put on over his pyjamas. "I'm going to strangle Dawlish for leaking our secrets to the Press – you have no idea what damage that could've caused – and I also want to see that old toad Umbridge and tell her where to stick her –"

"Harry!" The Healer was back, looking shocked. "Just what do you think you're doing? Get back into bed this instant, you're not doing your leg _any_ good at all. Have you lot been exciting him?" she enquired angrily of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins as she pushed Harry back onto his bed. "Maybe you should leave. Go on, get out!" She brandished a huge bunch of extremely ugly, bright orange flowers at them, and they fled.

"These are yours," said the Healer curtly, plonking the flowers into a vase. They honked and blew a raspberry at him. "Just arrived from someone called Loony or Lupa or something."

"Luna," corrected Harry automatically. "Healer, I really have to go – there's something important I've got to do –"

"You're not going anywhere," said the Healer firmly. "Now, I'm going for my dinner, and I don't want to have any funny business going on behind my back. Drink this." She pushed a flask of purple potion at him.

"What is it?" said Harry irritably. "Do I need it?"

"Sleeping Potion, you need to calm your nerves. Drink."

Scowling, Harry emptied the potion into his mouth and lay back down.

"Good boy," smiled the Healer. "Sweet dreams."

Harry waited till she had left the ward, then sat up, pulled the nearest bunch of flowers – Luna's honking orange ones, which protested loudly – towards him, and spat the potion into its vase. He had no intention of going to sleep. As quickly as he could, Harry got back out of bed, put his robes back on and hobbled towards the door.

"Good luck, Harry." Neville was grinning. He'd seen what Harry had done.

"Thanks, Neville," said Harry. "Don't tell her where I've gone, okay?"

"'Course I won't. Do you realise you put those Honking Daffodils to sleep?" Neville said, nodding towards the vase. Harry glanced over his shoulder. The orange flowers were indeed snoozing – and snoring gently – from the effect of the Sleeping Potion.

"Oh, yeah…whoops. Well, at least they won't keep you awake," said Harry. "I'll see you later…I need to find the others."

Harry exited the ward, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.


	19. A Chaotoball Wheeze

**Thanks to mamacita-san, my beta, for editing this! Any mistakes left are mine, because I messed up the document a teeny bit just now. **

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"_Ouch_, Harry!" 

"Sorry," said Harry. It had not taken him long to find everybody again, and they had just Apparated into the foyer of the Ministry, which was dimmer and more shadowy than Harry had ever seen it. With the coming of evening, the lamps were burning low, and the place was virtually empty except for a few witches and wizards exiting the room through the many fireplaces. Upon appearing in the Ministry, Harry had lost his balance and staggered into Hermione.

"Did I tread on your foot?" Harry asked apologetically, righting himself with care.

"Yes, but never mind," said Hermione kindly, evidently trying not to wince. "It must be difficult keeping your balance with your leg like that. I still agree with the Healer, you should've stayed in St Mungo's till it healed properly –"

"So, what are we doing here again?" interrupted Fred cheerfully. The twins had insisted on joining them.

"We're going to see Umbridge first about Lupin," said Harry, beginning to limp towards the lift, ignoring the predictable stares and gasps he was getting from the few people he passed. "If she's still here…it's pretty late. Which floor is her office on?"

"'Scuse me, I dunno what you're all doing visiting at this time of night, but you'll need to get a badge and have your wand checked," a bored voice drawled at them. Harry turned to see Eric Munch, the Ministry Watchwizard, sitting behind his desk holding his hand out for their wands. Impatient to get on, Harry ignored him and they stumbled towards the lift, leaving Eric behind them with a slightly baffled look on his face. Thankfully, the lift was empty, and they crowded inside before Eric had time to do anything but look gormlessly after them.

"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, that'll be where Umbridge is," said Harry confidently. "Didn't the _Prophet_ mention she'd changed her job to one dealing just with part-humans? Twisted old toad." He punched a button and the lift began to jerk upwards. When they reached the fourth floor, the lift doors slid open. The six of them tumbled out into the corridor, which was long, cream-coloured and lined with rows of identical white-painted doors.

"Er," said Harry, having no idea what to do next. "Which do you reckon is Umbridge's?"

"That one," said Fred promptly, pointing at a door quite close to them.

"How d'you know that?" said Harry in surprise, hobbling over to it.

"I don't, you plank, just thought it would be funny to see you fall for it." Harry shot Fred a dirty look.

"Excuse me," said Hermione's voice suddenly and clearly. Harry turned to see who she was speaking to. A tall, thin witch in violet robes was walking down the corridor.

"Can I help?" she asked, looking mildly surprised to see them all gathered there. Harry moved hastily behind Ron so he wouldn't be noticed; him being around always seemed to complicate matters.

"I was just wondering if you could tell us where to find Dolores Umbridge's office," said Hermione politely.

"It's number twenty-nine," said the woman. "What do you wish to talk to her about?" She looked suspicious. "You should know that she doesn't like kids…and I think that she's busy right now. Maybe you should leave – the lift's just over there."

Harry changed his mind about hiding. "We're here to talk about some, er, _private_ matters," he said politely, stepping out from behind Ron. "We'd rather not disclose our business. The woman's eyes flicked to his scar and her eyes widened.

"Oh! Oh my goodness…of – of course Mr Potter – I'll just leave you to it…." She hurried off. Harry smirked. That newspaper article had proved slightly useful, then.

They located the door upon which was hung a small plaque engraved with "29 – DJU". Harry walked awkwardly over to it, raised his fist and knocked, hard, on the wood.

"Enter!" piped a sugary-sweet, girlish voice from within, and Harry shoved the door open.

Dolores Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, her simpering toad-like face as repulsive as ever. Harry winced at the sight of the familiar fluffy pink cardigan and the black velvet bow nestled in her silvery curls. She was surrounded by official-looking witches and wizards; it seemed they had interrupted a meeting. At the sight of Harry, several of them – mostly witches – let out gasps. A completely bald wizard with a long ginger moustache whom Harry had never seen before in his life leapt up from his chair. "My goodness, it's Harry Potter," he said excitedly. He went eagerly towards Harry, hand outstretched. "Mr Potter, come in, so glad to meet you –"

"Sit down, Wodderspoon, and remember whose office this is before you begin inviting people in," snapped Umbridge coldly, her eyes turning flint-like as she gazed at Harry. The bald wizard sank meekly back into his chair. "Mr Potter." Umbridge's wide mouth stretched into an insincere smile. "What an unexpected pleasure, and at such a late hour! We all believed to you be recuperating in St Mungo's…and what can I do for you?"

Harry breathed heavily, glaring at her. "I've come to talk about Remus Lupin," he said forcefully. "You've got to release him, you're making a mistake." An audible murmur went around the room at these words, and Harry saw several of the people in the room exchange interested glances.

Umbridge's eyebrows went up. "Lupin?" she said, pretending to think very hard. "Oh! You mean the half-breed beast currently taking up space in Azkaban? I'm sorry, you were talking about the werewolf as though it were _human."_

"Watch it," growled Harry, reaching for his wand. Several of the wizards rose at this, and one little witch squeaked, "Ooh!" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm from behind before he could do anything.

"Temper, temper, we wouldn't want you to get into any trouble now, would we, Mr Potter? And you've brought your little sidekicks with you? Let me see them."

The others crowded slowly into the room, looking at Umbridge with expressions of varying degrees of dislike. "Oh, yes, I remember you," said Umbridge distastefully, surveying Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins as though they were something very nasty she had found on the sole of her shoe. "Especially _you_." This was directed at Fred and George, who smirked.

"Ah, yes, the glorious fireworks display. Best we ever had," sighed Fred reminiscently.

"Is the swamp still there, Professor?" George inquired innocently, and Umbridge snarled.

"Oh, you think you're very clever, boys, but perhaps you forget that the fate of the werewolf is in my hands…I'm afraid he won't be with us much longer. We were just discussing exactly how long, as a matter of fact." The snarl had changed to a look of satisfaction; there was a cold gleam in Umbridge's eyes.

"You horrible woman," hissed Hermione, letting go of Harry's arm and stepping right in front of Umbridge's desk. "You don't know _anything_ about Professor Lupin, he's on our side, he's–"

"Be quiet, little girl, you don't have any idea what you're saying," Umbridge interrupted Hermione disdainfully, and several of the witches and wizards in the room nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Werewolves present a very terrible threat to our society; it is our duty to exterminate them," said a very pompous-looking man with thin, dark hair and unusually large nostrils. Hermione's eyes narrowed and Ron jumped in to defend her.

"You've got no proof," he said loudly. "Lupin's never harmed anyone, he's always been careful!" Harry thought of Lupin's moonlit escapades with the Marauders and tried not to catch Hermione's eye; Ron was being slightly economic with the truth.

"Dolores, perhaps we should keep these children for questioning," piped up a hard-faced witch, breaking the short silence that had fallen after Ron stopped speaking. "They know the werewolf; they could provide information for the trial..."

"What! You can't detain Harry Potter for questioning," objected the bald wizard, standing up with a shocked expression on his face just as Harry snorted contemptuously.

"If you don't stay in your seat from now on, Wodderspoon…" purred Umbridge, tapping her painted pink fingernails ominously on the desk. "Then I'll –"

"I'm sitting, I'm sitting!" Wodderspoon said hurriedly, dropping back down and folding his hands meekly in his lap..

"As if I'd stay if you tried to keep me," said Harry scornfully. "When's Lupin's trial?"

"That's top-secret Ministry information, Mr Potter," Umbridge told him sweetly, at the exact same moment that Wodderspoon put in helpfully,

"Oh, I know – it's this Thursday, Harry!"

Umbridge shot daggers at Wodderspoon. "Shut up, you blithering idiot." Ginny giggled.

"Cheers, Mr Wodderspoon," said Harry, grinning, and the bald wizard, who had cringed in fear at Umbridge's death glare, perked up again. Harry turned back to Umbridge.

"Right, as you lot obviously aren't going to change your minds about sentencing him, we'll be attending this trial in Lupin's defence," Harry informed her. Umbridge's eyes widened very slightly, but she soon recovered her composure.

"Oh, I don't think that the Minister would agree to that," she said sweetly. "No, no, he was planning on a very private_, select_ trial."

"Was he?" chipped in Wodderspoon, looking surprised. "But I thought you said earlier it was going to be a public –"

Umbridge snapped. "_Get out of my office, _you half-witted numbskull!" Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she started breathing fire. Wodderspoon blinked, terrified, and scurried towards the exit.

"Wonderful to meet you, Harry Potter!" he whispered as he passed Harry, then whipped nimbly around the door before Umbridge could say anything more to him.

"Er," said Harry, a little thrown off track, and the twins came to his rescue.

"So!" said Fred cheerfully. "As it's a public trial –"

"– as seemed to have slipped your small brain –"

"Don't compliment her, George."

"Beg pardon, I mean your non-existent brain, it looks as though we _will_ be attending –" George broke off. Umbridge had pulled out her very short wand from beneath her pink cardigan.

"All right, keep your wig on."

"No need to be rude."

"You should know better than to insult an eminent Ministry official such as myself," Umbridge hissed, all sugary tones forgotten.

Harry pulled out his own wand. "Don't make me do something stupid," he warned her.

Umbridge shot a look at the other witches and wizards in the room, and after a brief moment of hesitation, they all reached into their robes. Soon twelve wands pointed directly at Harry's chest, and he paused. He hadn't meant to end up in this sort of sticky situation; with his leg still stiff and numb, he was in no condition to duel a dozen people at once, even with support from the others. Umbridge smiled widely as she saw his indecision.

"Unless you agree not to come to the werewolf's trial, Mr Potter, you might find yourself physically _incapable_ of attending." Umbridge's eyes were gleaming alarmingly as she seemed to relish ideas of what exactly she could do to Harry right now. "You have a choice," she reminded him. "But if you don't lower your wand _very_ quickly, I'll have no option but to curse you…can't have you endangering myself and my colleagues…."

Harry still hesitated; he would have given anything to be able to hex Umbridge into a small, nasty puddle of slime, but considering the circumstances, it probably wouldn't be the wisest thing to do. Before he could make up his mind, however, several things happened in very quick succession.

To his right, George made a sudden movement that caused Umbridge and several wizards to swing their wands in his direction; Fred, meanwhile, let off a series of firecrackers from the tip of his wand. The room filled with screams, electric-blue smoke that hissed and crackled, and sizzling flashes of white light. Harry, ducking down and coughing, saw each of the twins pull a small, bright purple ball from the pocket of their jeans and hurl it with all their strength at the wall.

It was pandemonium. The second the tiny balls came into contact with the solid brick, they seemed to explode. From each ball shot many more balls, and these in turn rocketed around the small room, multiplying with every bounce. Spell-casting was forgotten as people cowered and ducked, shielding their faces with their arms. Dozens of the rubbery, violently-coloured objects pelted down hard on Harry's head, and he stumbled in the direction of the door. The blue smoke had almost entirely filled the room by this time, and Harry heard George's gleeful yells as he let forth another burst of firecrackers from his wand-tip – just for the hell of it, as it was now entirely unnecessary to defend themselves against the Ministry officials. The last thing Harry saw before he finally made it to the doorway was Umbridge crawling inelegantly underneath her own desk in a desperate attempt to avoid the whizzing, pinging, multi-coloured storm.

Harry, helped by Hermione, stumbled outside and pulled the door shut to stop the balls escaping into the corridor. Then he leant against the wall shaking with laughter.

"That," he said to the triumphant Fred and George, "has got to be one the best things you've ever made."

"Utterly – brilliant," snorted Ron breathlessly, doubling up with laughter. "Did you see Umbridge – hiding…under her desk…." At that point, he seemed to become incapable of speaking at all and simply howled silently, hanging onto Hermione's arm for support.

"Chaotoballs," grinned Fred. "One hundred percent guaranteed to cause havoc in your standard, run-of-the-mill lesson."

"They needed testing," George informed Harry, high-fiving Fred.

"Well, they definitely work," said Harry, attempting to smother his laughter as they set off back down the corridor. "Oh, I'd have loved to set one of those off in one of Snape's classes."

Hermione looked scandalised. "Harry, they're all very well for something like this, but really, in a _lesson_…."

"Do they stop multiplying after a while?" Ginny asked George. "Only…." She glanced back along the corridor; they could still hear people stumbling about and yelling from inside Umbridge's office.

"Give them about thirty seconds more and they'll all fade away," George told her. "We'd have liked to keep them going indefinitely –"

"– but you'd end up swimming in them, or getting crushed to death," said Fred. "Not ideal for the classroom model…though it could be an innovative way of fighting Death Eaters," he added thoughtfully.

They squashed themselves once more into the lift. Harry slowly sobered up, a knot twisting inside his chest as he recognised that they hadn't resolved anything, and that Lupin's fate hung on this coming trial.

"What's next?" asked Ginny. "The necklace?"

"Yeah, where d'you reckon we should look for it?" asked Harry, staring at the panel of buttons in the lift doubtfully. "Who even has it?"

"The new Department?" Ginny suggested. "The Department of Horcruxes? Oh –"

The lift had begun to move downwards by itself; evidently someone was about to use it.

"Damn, where's my Invisibility Cloak?" said Harry hastily, rummaging in the pockets of his robes.

"Back at St Mungo's," said Hermione. "But there's no need to hide all the time, Harry…."

"Too late, anyway," said Harry resignedly, readying himself as the lift doors slid open. To his consternation, at least a dozen people – all of them very elderly witches – were waiting to get in; at the sight of Harry, there was a collective gasp of surprise and admiration.

"OOH! Look, Nora, look – it's him! It's really him! Harry Potter!" A white-haired, button-nosed witch jiggled up and down in amazed delight.

"Yes, my dear, I had deduced that already," said the silver-robed, bespectacled Nora dryly, though she couldn't keep a note of childish excitement out of her voice.

"I've wanted to see this young man for years and years! I'll never forget this day!" And the white-haired witch beamed shyly at Harry, her round cheeks rosy-red.

The other witches all began to speak at once.

"Oh, I'm all of a flutter!"

"What are you doing in the Ministry, Harry, dear?"

"The _Prophet_ reported that you were ill, in St Mungo's, were they wrong?"

"No, dearie, look, he has bandages on his leg!"

"Oh, the poor darling…does it hurt awfully?"

"Isn't he handsome? Such a fine, strong boy…."

"Harry – may I call you Harry? – _would_ you autograph my handkerchief? I'm afraid I don't have any paper on me…." The white-haired witch held out a square of white, lacy material in one trembling hand.

Harry, who had been rather lost for words as this formidable fan club gazed at him in awe, sighed and pushed his way out of the lift. The witches fell silent as he stepped into their midst.

"Er," said Harry, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask, but wondering whether or not it was wise. Finally, he threw caution to the winds; now that his business was all over the papers, Harry supposed regretfully that it wouldn't matter if he revealed a little more. And he needed to know. He spoke very clearly, though quietly as he addressed the huddle of witches. "Can any of you tell us where to find the Department of Horcruxes?"

This caused a great deal of excitement. The white-haired witch elbowed Nora happily, whispering, "See? He's being a hero _right now_!"

Harry sucked the inside of his cheek irritably, but let the statement pass.

"It's on this floor," said a short, much wrinkled woman helpfully. "Follow that corridor there, you can't miss it."

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully, turning to go. The others squeezed out of the lift and joined him. "Er – bye," Harry added awkwardly to the witches, who all protested.

"But we've only just met!"

"Wouldn't you like to have a nice cup of tea with us?"

"Won't you sign my handkerchief?" wailed the white-haired witch, as Harry set off impatiently down the corridor, his mind now set on one thing: getting that opal necklace back, and getting it soon.

"Sorry!" called Harry over his shoulder and the others caught up with him. "Lots to do – thanks for your help!" He didn't have time to waste scribbling on the handkerchiefs of dotty old ladies. It was already late; through the windows, the sky was a dark blue-grey, faintly sprinkled with stars. Full night was nearly upon them, and Harry, being totally unfamiliar with Ministry shifts, had no idea whether all the employees at the Department of Horcruxes would have gone home.

"What did you say we were doing again?" Fred queried as they strode along the corridor, which was an unusually long, twisting one.

"Oh, yeah…." Harry realised he had never told the twins why they were here. "Well, we're going to try to get back one of the Horcruxes from the Department," he told them. "Er – the necklace that was in the _Daily_ _Prophet_," he added awkwardly; it _was_ the thing that had killed Percy, and was probably a sensitive subject.

But Fred only replied cheerfully, "Aha, the infamous Horcrux hunt…Now we, too, can be heroes _right now_, can't we, Harry – may I call you Harry, Mr. Potter?"

George gasped. "You mean this is _Harry Potter_?" he said in awestruck tones. "Oh my goodness – I never realised – I'm all of a flutter!"

"Oh, shut up," said Harry as both Ron and Ginny snorted.

The corridors were empty, their footsteps echoing on the smooth white tiles. Harry walked as fast as he could on his bandaged leg (which was beginning to hurt again after the strain he had been putting it through), wondering when the Department was going to come into sight. They turned a corner. Then –

"AGGHHH!" Harry let out a yell of shock as his body collided with something very solid, very human, and perfectly invisible, that gave an _oof _of pain as Harry hit it.

"Shut up, boy, shut up! And point that wand away from me, idiot! What the hell are you lot doing here?" The growling voice was familiar.

"W-w-what?" Harry stammered, staring wildly at the space in front of him. "Professor Moody?"

But another bodiless voice answered him urgently, from the air in front of a large, ornate door inscribed with the words, 'D. of Horcruxes'. Harry recognised it instantly as Mr Weasley's.

"Harry, all of you, I don't know what you're doing, but get out of here! We're on Order business – go!"

* * *

**A/N: Oh, my, Moody and Mr Weasley sneaking round the Ministry at this hour. How naughty of them. **

**It is Search for the Broken Soul's first birthday! Woot! Happy birthday, Broken Soul, you are one year old. ****And it was my 18th birthday last week! Yay!**

**Well, next chappie should be up in about two weeks when my exams (my equivalent to NEWTS!) are all over. Till then, and please review!**


	20. Unexpected Guests

Disclaimer: My parents were actually going to call me Joanne (this is true) but when I arrived they decided I "didn't look like a Joanne" (shrugs) so they didn't. Nope.

**Heaps of thanks to Mamacita-san for the beta job, and to Ski000Girl for giving me my 200****th**** review! (and to ALL of you who have reviewed before, making that possible! Lol!)**

* * *

"So, what do you reckon?" Fred spoke quietly, with a furtive look at the kitchen door. Though the kitchen was empty, the house wasn't; they could hear footsteps upstairs. They were back in the old, stony kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ginny sitting at the table, and Ron, Harry and the twins on top of it. 

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well, are Moody and your dad in the habit of breaking into Ministry departments in the middle of the night? If they are, that would help..."

"Maybe the Order have found out something about a Horcrux that we don't know," suggested Ron. "Maybe they're going to get the necklace!"

"Scrimgeour was in there," Hermione reminded him. "Maybe they just needed to speak to him."

"Funny way to go and have a chat with someone, under an Invisibility Cloak –"

"Well, it was just an idea," said Hermione testily. "I doubt the Order's going to send people around stealing stuff from the Ministry. And it's risky – I mean, your dad _works_ there, Ron!"

"Really?" said Ron. "I hadn't noticed –"

Harry raised his voice. "When you two have finished biting each other's heads off –?" Ron and Hermione fell into an irritable silence. "So, anyway," Harry continued calmly, "what are we going to do about the necklace?"

"Even if we do manage to get it back, I hate having that thing near me." Ginny shuddered. "Didn't you say it was so heavily cursed it killed seventeen ex-owners? And, well, Percy..."

_Bang!_ The kitchen door burst open and they all jumped in surprise. Bill stood in the doorway, hair pulled back as always into a ponytail, and a suppressed grin on his face.

"What are you looking so happy about?" Ron said suspiciously. "And where's Fleur?"

"Did I hear you mention curses?" said Bill, ignoring Ron. "Great things, curses; don't get half such cool ones in Britain."

"You want to bet?" muttered Harry under his breath.

"Harry?" said Bill, only just noticing him. "Aren't you supposed to be in Mungo's?"

"My leg's fine," lied Harry quickly. "They – er – let me out early."

Bill, with a sceptical look at Harry's leg, seemed about to protest, but at that moment Hermione gave a sudden odd, excited squeak and everyone looked at her.

"Bill!" she said. "You're a curse-breaker!"

"She's sharp today, our Hermione," said Ron, raising his eyebrows. After a moment in which Harry wondered if Hermione had accidentally swallowed a state-the-obvious potion, he punched Ron excitedly on the arm. Hermione was on the right track – why on earth hadn't he thought of it before?

"Bill," he said quickly to the mystified man standing before them, making his mind up quickly (well, it was all over the papers now anyway), "Bill, d'you – do you know anything about Horcruxes?"

Bill stopped looking perplexed. Smiling, he plonked himself down next to Ginny. "It's my job, Harry, mate," he informed him. "I've dealt with them before, yeah – well, in theory only, but I should be able to help. What do you want me to do?"

"Destroy them?" said Harry tentatively. "Er – preferably without burning off any flesh," he added quickly, thinking of Dumbledore's blackened hand.

Bill thought about this for a few seconds, then said casually, "Should be able to, yeah." Harry looked at the others, a wide grin splitting his face; they beamed back at him.

"Amazing," he said fervently. "Could you do it now?"

Bill looked slightly taken aback. "Now? Hang on, Harry," he said hastily, scratching his ear so that his fang earring trembled. "I'll need to look up the incantations and stuff, it's not that simple...and I only came down to grab a drink. I'm a – a bit busy right now. In fact, I should really be getting back upstairs –"

"If I fetch one now, when will you be ready?" Harry asked impatiently, then noticed Hermione's reproving expression. "Sorry," he said. "We've been waiting for this for a long –"

"Fetch one now?" repeated Bill, frowning. "You have a Horcrux here? One of You-Know-Who's?"

"Yeah," said Ron casually. "It's in Harry's bedroom."

Bill whistled.

"I'll get it," said Harry, jumping to his feet.

"Wait!" Bill half-rose from his chair, looking suddenly anxious. "Maybe you shouldn't go upstairs just yet –"

Ron, Ginny and the twins looked at him suspiciously.

"What've you been doing up there?" George glanced at the ceiling, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Not something naughty, I hope..."

Fred clapped his hand on his elder brother's shoulder. "C'mon, Bill, let us know – we won't tell too many people."

"You'd darn well better not," said Bill quickly, a crease in his forehead kinking one of the scars on his face. The chairs clattered as he pushed them back. "Don't you dare go upstairs, any of you, I'm serious..._Oi!_ Fred! George!" Bill made a grab for the twins as they passed, but missed. "Ron, Ginny – Harry!" he yelled, as they jumped up, grinning, and sprinted for the kitchen door. Bill pounded after them as they chased after the twins. "Get back down, you lot – Mum's not going to like this – don't –" Hermione followed slowly, looking torn between anxiety and amusement.

"Bill? What ees going on?" Harry skidded to a halt outside a large door on the first landing, behind which Fleur's anxious voice floated out to them. Fred and George had gone past it; returning hastily, they appeared behind him. Harry hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, but Fred glanced at him, exasperated, and shoved it open.

All of them took an involuntary step backwards. The bare, bleak room was bathed in a flickering green light. A magically extended fireplace was host to a roaring emerald fire, and Fleur Delacour stood before it, her silvery-white hair reflecting the green glow of the flames. Her wand was pointed at the heart of the fire, as though she were waiting for something to burst through. She gasped, her beautiful face bewildered, as they sidled cautiously into the room.

"Idiots," muttered Bill, slamming the door behind him. "So much for a secret mission," he added, shaking his head and looking very odd with his scarred skin tinged green.

"What's the Floo for?" asked Hermione, cautiously eyeing the flames.

"Why are zey up here, Bill?" asked Fleur, seeming to only just recover her voice. "Did not your muzzer say, keep zis quiet...?"

"I know what she said," Bill said testily. "It's not my fault –"

"Why does no one ever tell me anything?" demanded Harry. "I can cope, you know...I'm not a weedy little kid, or anything..."

"I never said you were, Harry. It wasn't my decision to keep you lot in the dark about this; we're doing something worse than illegal here and were hoping to _surprise_ you, as well as protect ourselves...and you _really _should go before Mum gets back." Bill said this all in one breath, looking harassed.

"Worse than illegal?" said Ron interestedly. "Cool, so what are you doing?"

"That's it, get out!" ordered Bill, exasperated.

"C'mon, we've found out this much," wheedled Ginny.

"And if it's anything to do with Moody and your dad," added Harry, "We already saw them in the Ministry about twenty minutes ago."

"You were in the – what the heck – I don't – you're lucky I'm not wiping your memories!" spluttered Bill angrily.

"You were much more fun before you joined the Order," said Fred regretfully. "I dunno why, it didn't affect us."

"What, you're in the Order now?" Harry asked Fred, surprised. Of course, there was no reason now for them not to be, but Harry had had so much on his mind that he'd not even thought about it – and come to that, _he_ was of age now, too...

"Yeah," said Fred, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "But if it makes us as grumpy as Bill, I'm going to quit."

"You can quit trying to distract me," said Bill, with a nervous glance at the fireplace. "Why don't you – why don't you fetch that Horcrux of yours, Harry? You lot wait in your rooms" – he tried to usher them toward the door – "and I'll help you destroy it as soon as I'm done with this. Okay?"

"Good idea, but too late," said Harry, grinning, as the green flames glowed brightly and leapt higher than before: a sure sign that someone was about to come through the Floo network.

Bill swore and fumbled for his wand, though he seemed to forget the others were in the room as he stared eagerly into the flames.

"Come on," he muttered, pointing his wand at the fire. "Let it have –" Bill broke off as the indistinct forms of at least a dozen people appeared, spinning, in the grate.

"Bill, it's safe – it ees zem!"

Staring eagerly at the fast-appearing group, Fleur lowered her wand. Harry and the others stepped backwards as what looked like a good three-quarters of the Order of the Phoenix stepped out of the fire, several more appearing from underneath Invisibility Cloaks. Charlie Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were there, among many others.

Bill, who had been scanning the group with anxious eyes, stepped forward, his wand hand dropping. "Where's –" he began worriedly.

"Right here, Bill!" chuckled an invisible voice, and Hermione let out a little shriek of amazement as a bright-eyed, pink-cheeked Tonks swept off an Invisibility Cloak, Remus Lupin hanging onto her arm. He looked thin and exhausted, but was smiling widely, and seemed to be suppressing a great roar of laughter.

Harry sank back against the wall. "Professor Lupin?" he said weakly, staring at his beaming ex-teacher in stunned disbelief as Mr Weasley threw some white powder into the grate; the flames hissed and shrank to their normal size.

"Harry?" said a sharp voice, as Lupin looked over at him. Mrs Weasley appeared from behind Kingsley's broad frame. "What are you doing out of St. Mun–"

"It's okay, Mum," said Ginny hastily. "We'll explain later...Professor, what did they do?" she asked Lupin, her eyes shining. "Did they break into Azkaban?"

Harry looked at Lupin for confirmation; still chuckling, Lupin nodded.

"Operation successful," growled a familiar voice happily. Moody thumped Lupin on the back, his mouth twisting in a smile. Lupin looked as though he still couldn't believe his luck, and the beaming Tonks wasn't taking her eyes off her husband.

"But –" said Harry, the strangest sensation rising up in him, like a huge, melting bubble of relief and shock, "I – I can't believe it." He laughed oddly, feeling strangely unreal. Was all this a dream, was he still in his bed in St Mungo's?

He was about to pinch himself when Lupin assured him, "It's really me, Harry." He reached over and patted Harry on the shoulder. "I can hardly believe it myself...one moment I was sitting on the floor in a cell in Azkaban – the next, this lot turned up. How on earth did you manage to get the keys, by the way?" This question was directed at Mr Weasley, who was absent-mindedly turning the heavy iron keys to Azkaban over in his hands.

"Oh," said Mr Weasley, with an embarrassed glance at Harry and the others. "Er – maybe later. That reminds me," he said hastily, as Harry, Ron and the twins opened their mouths to protest, "we'll need to send these back to the Ministry...by an untraceable owl, of course..."

"You did lock the doors to Azkaban, didn't you, Mr Weasley?" Hermione asked, looking slightly anxious.

"Oh yes, yes, it's all secure," Mr Weasley reassured her happily. "Just minus one prisoner, haha! Yes, once we'd got the keys, it was easy; just connect the Azkaban Floo to Grimmauld Place, and hope that no one escaped while we were at it. We left guards, don't worry, Hermione," he added as she raised her eyebrows, gesturing at Bill and Fleur.

"Arthur, this was supposed to be a _secret_!" said Mrs Weasley exasperatedly. "For your protection, Harry dear," (Harry had begun to object again) "because, really, the fewer people that know about this the better. Now," she said fiercely, quelling all protests. "Why are you out of St. Mungo's, Harry, and Bill, why is this lot in the room at all?"

Bill raised his hands defensively. "Don't blame me," he told his mother. "They just came up here, I couldn't help it."

"And I left Mungo's early," said Harry truthfully, though evading Mrs Weasley's eyes. "My leg was nearly all right. And we had – er – stuff to do," he added, thinking of Umbridge and the storm of multicoloured Chaotoballs, while ignoring the still-throbbing pain in his leg. Evidently thinking along the same lines, the twins sniggered. Harry strove to keep his face straight as everyone in the room looked at him.

"Well, as long as you're all right, Harry, and forget everything you've seen in this room," said Mr Weasley, smiling, "then I think the most important thing to do right now is to go downstairs and have a welcome-home party for Remus."

Lupin chuckled again; Harry had rarely seen his old teacher look so happy. With a grateful glance round at the Order members, many of which had simply stood there, smiling, Lupin spoke again.

"I haven't yet thanked you," he said. "For all of you to come like that, to help me – you don't know how much it means to me –"

"You think we'd see a friend chucked in Azkaban and not do everything in our power to help?" asked Bill. "'Course not. Come on, that party sounds good. I haven't eaten for ages."

In a rush of noise and cheerful chatter, the Order of the Phoenix moved toward the door. It was only slowly that it was really beginning to hit Harry – Lupin was free; Umbridge hadn't got him; there would be no trial! Harry saw his feelings mirrored on Ron's face, but Hermione was looking strangely pensive and worried as they made their way down the stairs.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" said Harry, his grin fading slightly as he looked at her. Hermione sighed.

"It's wonderful that Professor Lupin is back, of course," she said carefully, "but we've still got to tell them what Neville saw...Professor McGonagall being...you know." Hermione's voice wobbled.

"Yes," said Harry gently, as Ron patted her on the arm. "I hadn't forgotten. But not tonight, it'd spoil the celebrations."

"I think they should know as soon as possible," murmured Hermione, but Harry and Ron didn't reply; already Mrs Weasley was at work with the frying pan; the enticing smell of sausages and bacon filled the room. They didn't notice Hermione slipping out of the kitchen, taut-faced.

"Cheers to a safe return!" Mr Weasley was shouting, as he bewitched several bottles of champagne to pop open and pelt around the room, filling people's goblets. "And for getting the better of those old Ministry fools!"

Laughter and hearty applause filled the room. Tonks grabbed Lupin and kissed him, forgetting she still had her drink in her hand (he was soon dripping with champagne). Harry and Ron cheered them on, grinning. Fred and George gave a celebratory whoop, clinking their crystal goblets together so hard that they smashed, and soon the sound of Mrs Weasley's yells added to the noise and confusion as the fizzy liquid rained down upon Ginny, Mundungus Fletcher, and all others close by.

"Sorry!" Fred apologised, mopping Ginny's drenched hair with a tea-towel he'd grabbed from the sink – the indignant Ginny fended him off with a slap – but at that moment someone grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the room.

"Hermione!" said Harry, bewildered, as she yanked him, wild-eyed, into the hallway. "What's going –"

"Snape!" Hermione said breathlessly, wringing her hands "Professor Snape, he's just come through the Floo – he's upstairs right now!"

"_What?_"

"He told me to get the Order, it's really urgent, but – but we'll need to explain that he's innocent!"

Harry stared at her. "He's really upstairs? You're not kidding me?" She shook her head, but before she could speak, a familiar voice reached Harry's ears.

"No time, Potter, get a move on!" Looking up, Harry saw with a jolt the familiar sallow-face and greasy black hair of his ex-Potions teacher. "Alert the Order," Snape hissed, leaning over the banister. "I'm saving all your skins here, so I'd appreciate it if you'd tell them _not_ to attack upon sight. Now go!"

But Harry's legs seemed to have frozen to the ground. "What's happened?" he asked quickly, suddenly filled with cold dread. "And how did you get in?"

"Harry, come _on!_" Hermione moaned, tugging his arm.

But at that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley come into the hallway. "Harry, Hermione? What are you –" Then she screamed. "_Snape!_" she shrieked, horrified, grabbing Harry and pushing him into the safety of the drawing room. "Severus Snape! Oh my God – Arthur! Alastor! Kingsley!"

The Order of the Phoenix tumbled into the hallway, several crystal glasses breaking in their haste. Snape withdrew his head, but it was too late: alarmed shouts filled the hall, and soon every wand was drawn.

"_STOP!_"Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs, pushing his way in panic out of the drawing room. "Wait, don't do anything – he's on our side!"

* * *

**...review?**

**(Dead-Luthien, Kate, I was nice, see! I didn't hurt Remus! Though whether that was my own choice or because you both offered to kill me if I _did..._I'm not really sure, hehe.)**


	21. Crumbling Fortresses

Disclaimer: Jo finished writing Deathly Hallows in January. _I_ still have quite a way to go for my HP ending (sigh!)

* * *

"Believe me," panted Harry, as Snape stared down impassively at the bewildered Order, who did not lower their wands. "He's not – he's not really with the Death Eaters – Dumbledore's picture explained it all to me –"

"Dumbledore?" said Tonks dubiously. The rest of the Order began to mutter amongst themselves; most still looked highly suspicious, and others, like Dedalus Diggle, terrified.

"There is very little time," said Snape coldly, proceeding swiftly down the stairs. There was a general cry of anger, and Moody let out an odd noise like a snarl, blocking Snape's path.

"Not so fast," he growled. "Whatever Dumbledore might have said, we don't trust you – and I don't know that I ever will," he added, his voice heavy with dislike.

Snape waved his hand. "The Dark Lord has ordered an attack on this house," he said curtly. "I have –"

Shouts of horror, rage, and disbelief rang through the hall, and Snape stopped, his eyes surveying them coldly.

"You lie, Severus," said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice. "This house is protected by the Fidelius Charm. It is unassailable."

"The secret is out," Snape said, sounding impatient. "I could not have got in otherwise! Have you not wondered about Minerva?"

"Minerva would never betray us!" cried Mrs Weasley.

"I never said that," Snape said quietly.

"She disappeared," said Bill Weasley. "We've tried Tracing Charms, sent out search parties –"

Snape nodded curtly, his face expressionless. "Minerva was taken by the Dark Lord's followers," he said. "I – she –"

"What?" said Moody sharply.

Snape spoke, his voice heavy with half-suppressed emotion. "She is dead."

"No!" shrieked Hermione, and the crowded hallway erupted in shocked disbelief. That Snape was telling the truth not one of them doubted; there had been the faintest note of genuine regret in his voice. Hermione started crying silently on Ron's shoulder, her whole body shaking with sobs. He patted her on the back as though he hardly noticed what he was doing; his face was blank with shock.

"I am truly sorry," said Snape, walking down the rest of the stairs; this time, no one tried to stop him.

There was a strange ringing in Harry's ears as he stared at his ex-Potions teacher; he felt oddly light-headed, yet at the same time as though something very heavy was dragging through his insides. McGonagall – gone – like Dumbledore, like Sirius – it seemed impossible that she could not be there, she had always been there ... firm, solid, somehow so _permanent_ ... he just could not take it in.

"I am sorry," repeated Snape, as Mrs Weasley sobbed into a handkerchief. "She died fighting, and took Macnair and Dolohov with her, too. But we must not waste time. The Dark Lord might attack at any moment; he is at present amassing his followers – he may suspect I have come to warn, since I did not answer his summons" – he rubbed his left forearm unconsciously, where Harry knew the Dark Mark was emblazoned on his skin – "and so I suggest that this house be evacuated immediately. The odds are against us, and the safety of certain people must be taken into consideration." His eyes lingered on Harry.

There was a moment of odd, ringing silence, then Moody roared, "I won't run from the cowards who killed one of the greatest witches I have ever known! Get Potter and the other kids out of here, but we shall fight!"

Snape looked at him coldly. "That is very unwise; the Dark Lord's followers are many –" he began, but Ron, who was glaring at Moody, interrupted him.

"No!" he said furiously. "If you're staying, we are too!"

"And I'm not leaving!" shouted Harry, feeling deep, boiling anger rising up in him. The initial shock of Snape's news having sunk in, he was filled with lashing, white-hot rage. _So they murdered her_, he thought furiously. _Those cowards! She probably taught most of them at Hogwarts, they just don't care who they kill any more..._

"Oh, yes, you are," said Mrs Weasley, grabbing his arm. "You're what You-Know-Who wants. You're not going to be a sitting target –"

"I won't just be _sitting –"_ said Harry angrily, but then a sudden thought occurred to him that made him go icy cold. The locket Horcrux – it was upstairs, in the desk in his room! What if Voldemort was after _that,_ not him? If he found it, Harry would never get it back. He let out an odd yelp, and wrenched himself out of Mrs Weasley's restraining grasp.

"Harry!" she screeched, horrified. "Come back here! The Death Eaters – " But Harry stumbled up the stairs, pushing roughly past Snape, who watched him coldly, a slight sneer playing around his thin mouth. Praying that he would get to Hermione's room before the Death Eaters arrived, Harry leapt the last few steps three at a time, wincing as pangs of pain shot through his injured leg. Mrs Weasley shot a Trip Jinx at him in a desperate attempt to stop him, but missed.

Harry staggered into his room, wrenched open the drawer of the little writing-desk, and fumbled clumsily with his wand. Muttering a hasty spell, Harry pointed his wand at the seemingly empty drawer; the Concealment Charm fell apart and the locket shimmered into sight. Harry grabbed it and stuffed it inside his robes just as he heard a series of cracks echo outside the corridor, and a terrible creaking of floorboards as though many people had just Apparated into the house.

Harry froze, one hand still inside his robes.

"Oh, my," said Phineas Nigellus snidely from his picture frame on the wall. "So now this house is host to the Dark Lord's followers; I hope you are not going to try to be _heroic_ again."

Hedwig was hooting, trying to get Harry's attention, but he barely heard her. The house seemed to shudder as the Death Eaters and the Order clashed; Harry could hear muffled shouts and screams. He stumbled to the door with his mouth set in a grim line, ignoring Phineas Nigellus; he was determined to get at least three Death Eaters back in Azkaban for what they had done to McGonagall. Incensed, he limped as fast as he could out into the corridor where a fully-fledged battle was raging.

"Harry!"

Mr Weasley, already sporting a magnificent bruise on one cheek and with his hair slightly singed, had apparently fought his way up the stairs to find him. He grabbed Harry's arm and wrenched him out of sight of the Death Eaters, who had not yet noticed Harry's emergence from his bedroom.

"Mr Weasley! Let me fight!" shouted Harry, struggling against the tight grip he found himself in.

"Harry, just get out of here!" Mr Weasley shouted in his ear, pushing him back into his bedroom. "Apparate somewhere, anywhere – before you get – just go!"

"No!" shouted Harry furiously, ducking under Mr Weasley's arm and throwing himself back into the fray. He sent an Impediment Curse at a random black-cloaked figure, and a Stunner at another, then was forced to lie flat against the wall to avoid several curses that came flying in his direction, though he wasn't sure that any had actually been aimed at him – yet.

Dust was falling all around them as the old house shook, and the portraits on the walls were all shouting and ducking out of the way of the curses that were flying in every direction. Mrs Black's portrait set up the most unearthly wail, but, uncharacteristically, her voice was screeching in triumph.

"_Yes, yes! Kill them, kill all the filthy bloodtraitors –"_

_Crash!_ The magnificent chandelier came tumbling down, smashed by a misaimed hex, pinning both a Death Eater and Tonks underneath. Harry saw Tonks struggling desperately to free herself...

"_Kill the half-breed scum who have befouled the house of my fathers –"_

Harry couldn't see Tonks any more; a huge blond-haired Death Eater had loomed up in front of him, wand pointed directly at Harry's face.

"_Protego_!" Harry's Shield Charm was powerful, but it cracked under the strength of the curse the blond-haired Death Eater had shot at him; the spell did not touch him but broke into several jets of electric-blue light and bounced in all directions. Feeling oddly winded, Harry staggered, and the blond-haired Death Eater leered, raising his wand again for a second attempt.

"_Kill them, oh, restore my ancestral home to the glorious pride of its former days –"_

As Harry tried, awkwardly, to dodge, the Death Eater keeled over, landing flat on his face. The floorboards shook; through the swirling dust, Harry saw Lupin standing behind the fallen Death Eater, wand raised.

Lupin gripped Harry's arm and pulled him upright; wiping his sweaty hair out of his forehead, Harry gripped his wand firmly again.

"Thanks," he gasped.

"Harry, you should get out of –" Lupin broke off, blocking several hexes coming in his direction. Soon Harry was alone again, as they got separated in the confusion. He could see more Death Eaters thundering in and out of empty rooms, blasting the furniture with their wands; they were definitely searching for something. Harry felt the heavy lump of the golden locket bump against his chest, and felt himself go cold with worry.

"_Kill, them, kill them, kill them!"_Mrs Black's awful shrill voice screeched even louder, rising to a frenzy.

Tonks had freed herself from under the chandelier; Harry glimpsed her and Mrs Weasley battling a Death Eater together. Ron and Hermione were still on their feet, and Harry thought he glimpsed Ginny fighting, but was that Kingsley, lying at the foot of the stairs, and Charlie Weasley sprawled by the broken chandelier? Were they just Stunned? Harry was too busy ducking and dodging to see properly what was going on – where was Voldemort? He wasn't in Grimmauld Place; that was evident at a glance. Snape was opening battling with the Death Eaters; he'd evidently thrown his pretence to the winds.

"_Kill them, kill them!_"

"_Serpentsortia_!" Harry let out a shout as a snake glided across the floor, straight for him; the wizard who had conjured it gave a nasty grin, revealing several broken teeth. Harry kicked the snake unceremoniously in its face with his unbandaged foot; it recoiled, and writhed on the floor, lashing its coils in pain. A Death Eater yelled as he stepped on it; it reared its bruised head, and bit him. Harry threw a hex at the wizard who had conjured the snake, but missed; he only narrowly avoided getting hit by the Death Eater's retaliatory curse by ducking behind a black-robed, dark-haired witch engaged in fighting Mad-Eye Moody. Before Harry had collected his wits, another Death Eater fell right behind him. Harry stumbled into the wall, which, to his horror, he saw was splattered with what looked like blood. He hoped fervently that it was Death-Eater blood.

"_Kill them, kill all the filthy scum!_"

The banisters had been struck by some curse and the blackened wood splintered; Mrs Black's portrait got hit by a Stunner and fell mercifully silent; Bill Weasley, fighting halfway up the stairs, slipped and crashed inelegantly backwards down the lower steps – it was utter chaos.

Harry threw up another Shield Charm and readied himself to shoot a curse at a particularly rough-looking Death Eater with long, straggly brown hair who was causing Lupin some trouble. Before he could act, however, a stray jet of bright white light slammed into the ceiling, and _BANG_! With a noise like a gunshot, a large, ugly crack splintered through the ceiling, and plaster rained down upon the fighters below. Several people yelled, and Harry's stomach lurched; the house was groaning and creaking, its walls shuddering in earnest now. Fire – from a curse? – had somehow taken hold of the splintered banisters, and the flames leapt eagerly upward, consuming the dry, ancient wood with terrible swiftness. People were shouting, and the floor shook so badly that Harry fell to the floor, as many around him seemed to be doing. He struggled to stand, but the floor lurched again, and he was thrown flat on his back.

The portraits were shouting in horrified distress, running into different pictures and jostling each other in their haste to escape the hungry flames; Harry finally staggered to his feet just as the house gave an unearthly groan. The floorboards buckled, but Harry had already fairly thrown himself downstairs. Mrs Weasley, her eyes wild and plaster in her hair, screamed at him.

"Get out, Harry, get out, go – the house, it's breaking up!" All around him, the Death Eaters were Disapparating with terrified glances at the crack in the ceiling, which was yawning ever wider, and the roaring flames. In a remarkably short amount of time, the Death Eaters had all gone, except those lying unconscious on the floor.

"Everyone get to the Burrow!" Mrs Weasley yelled. "Quickly! Take everyone who can't Apparate themselves!" She seized the unconscious Charlie's arm, heaved him upright, and with a huge effort, turned and Disapparated with him.

As a huge chunk of plaster hit Harry squarely on the head, and the heat from the flames began to feel as though it was blistering his skin, he stumbled, shaken, to the nearest body on the floor. It was Tonks; she was still breathing, but her face was pale and her eyes closed. Harry pulled her to her feet, glanced round and saw people Disapparating all around him. Mr Weasley, panting under the weight of Kingsley Shacklebolt's limp body, saw Harry and nodded hastily to tell him to get a move on. Harry quickly focused his mind on the Burrow, held Tonks tightly, and turned. As he Disapparated and the wreckage of the hallway faded into darkness, Harry heard, as though from a very great distance, the sound of crashing and crumbling. The walls of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place were rapidly caving in.

* * *

**I didn't want to kill off McGonagall! Sorry about that!!! **

**Anyway – thanks go to **_**Mamacita-san**_** for betaing this, and to my anonymous reviewer **_**peacegirl **_**because I couldn't reply directly! **

**And, of course – please review! **


	22. Rags and Patches

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine (sighs).

**Thanks to Mamacita-san for betaing!**

* * *

Harry dropped Tonks unceremoniously onto the kitchen floor at the Burrow and sat down on the tiles next to her, breathing heavily. His leg was sore, a headache was pounding behind his eyes, and he felt sick and dizzy. All around him, people were shouting and calling to one another, checking that everyone was there. Bodies were sprawled all over the kitchen and in the narrow hallway. Just looking at them and hearing the confused shouts all around made Harry's head pound even harder. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. 

"Harry, you're here – and Ron, Ginny ... Hermione? Where's Hermione? Oh, there, good – and Remus – and Severus –" Mr Weasley, pale and shaken, was counting heads, and other Order members were attempting to revive the unconscious witches and wizards. Lupin was already bent over Tonks, tapping her face sharply with his wand. Harry, feeling that he should probably help rather than sitting there, crawled over to a random body and pulled out his wand. He jumped in shock as he realised it was Rabastan Lestrange, sallow face bruised and blood trickling down his forehead.

Alarmed, Harry staggered to his feet, looking for help. "Mr Weasley," Harry said loudly, and he looked round. "Er –" Harry gestured at Lestrange.

"Oh yes, we brought the Death Eaters too, Harry," Mr Weasley said calmly, though looking at Rudolphus Lestrange with distaste. "We could hardly leave them in Grimmauld Place – but they'll be handed over to the Ministry soon."

Bending down gingerly beside Lestrange, Arthur Weasley tapped the Death Eater's wrists with his wand, muttering "_Redimio."_ A thin cord shot from his wandtip and bound Lestrange's hands tightly, then Mr Weasley did the same to the wizard's ankles.

"We'd better leave them unconscious, I think. If you could do the same to the other Death Eaters, Harry?" he said distractedly, getting up. "I'll help Molly see to Charlie; I'm not sure what he got hit by." He hurried off.

Harry stumbled around, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes and trying to ignore the thumping headache that was steadily getting worse. He found a few more Death Eaters, some whom he knew, others he had never seen before. It was with satisfaction that he bound the wrists of Alecto Carrow, who had taunted Dumbledore shortly before his death. Another Death Eater whom Harry did not recognise stirred and began to open his eyes just as Harry reached him; hastily, Harry stunned him. He felt slightly guilty as the man's head lolled limply to one side.

But there were only six Death Eaters in the kitchen (whom Ron and Ginny were carefully avoiding) and many more Order members. Harry felt even sicker as he gazed around.

"Harry, go to bed," said Mrs Weasley, looking up from Charlie's body. He had just opened his eyes, looking dazed. "It's kind of you to help, but you must get some sleep now – you look exhausted."

"But –"

"We'll deal with everything," said Mrs Weasley firmly, shooing him to the kitchen door. "You've had a long day and need to rest your leg – Ron, Ginny, Hermione, you go upstairs too, dears. I'll wake you when we go to St. Mungo's to sort out everyone who got hurt."

By now, Harry was too tired to argue, and half-propelled by Ron and Hermione, he went upstairs. Hermione and Harry went into the twins' room and collapsed on their beds. Fully clothed, bruised and sweaty, with the locket Horcrux still lying smooth and cold against his skin, Harry sank swiftly into sleep. His mind was too exhausted even for him to dream.

* * *

Hands were shaking Harry gently, nudging him out of a deep, clinging sleep. He groaned thickly. "Wassamarruh?" 

"Time to get up, Harry dear. I know you haven't got much sleep but you do want to come to St Mungo's, don't you?"

Harry blearily opened his eyes. Mrs Weasley's face swam hazily in front of him.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," she told him briskly, as he groped unsuccessfully for his glasses, which had fallen off in his sleep. "It'll be nice for us all to go, don't you think?"

Harry couldn't really think much at all yet, his head was too muzzy, but he mumbled something in the affirmative and Mrs Weasley left the room.

"I'll be downstairs, Harry, okay?" Hermione bent down, picked something off the floor – Harry's glasses – and handed them to him.

"Thanks," he said, taking them and screwing his eyes up as everything came into focus. "Wait, I'm coming." There were benefits to not undressing for bed, he thought vaguely; it did save time in the mornings.

They tramped down the stairs, meeting Ron and Ginny on the way. Both looked rather tired and grumpy still, and both bore the marks of the recent battle; Ron had a large cut over one eye and blood on his robe-sleeve, and Ginny was limping slightly.

"You okay?" Harry asked them as they reached the last flight of stairs, and continued rather more slowly downwards.

"Yeah, we're all right," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Nothing serious, but Mum wants us to get checked out at Mungo's anyway."

"Mum said that Tonks still hasn't woken up," said Ginny in a low voice. "She's breathing and everything, but – well, no one knows what happened to her exactly."

"Why didn't they take her to hospital straightaway?" Harry asked her, frowning.

"Oh, they did," said Ginny quietly, as they reached the kitchen door. "She's at Mungo's now; Dad just went to check how she was. The rest of us are going to follow in a minute."

They entered the kitchen, which was in a much better state than it had been a few hours ago. Everybody in it was conscious, for one thing. Mrs Weasley and several other Order members were busy stuffing things into bags. Snape was not there anymore, nor Lupin. Apart from the occasional bruise or sling, Harry could see no one who looked seriously injured.

"Everyone who was badly hurt went to St Mungo's last night," said Moody, appearing behind them so suddenly that they all jumped.

"Where are the Death Eaters?" asked Hermione, as they joined Fred, George, Bill and Fleur at the table and started eating the hastily-prepared breakfast laid out for them.

"In Azkaban," growled Moody in satisfaction; his magical eye was spinning around happily as he speared a poached egg on a small knife he pulled out of a robe pocket.

"Already?" said Ron, surprised. "That was quick."

"Yeah, we alerted the Ministry pretty soon after you lot went to bed," said Moody, now sniffing the egg-yolk warily. "They were _very_ happy with the turn of events, of course; and so we get special treatment, for a bit!"

He pointed with a gnarled hand outside the window, where two dark-green Ministry cars could be seen waiting.

"We told them we got randomly attacked in London," said Moody. "Seeing as we caught a few Death Eaters, they're giving us private transport to St Mungo's to visit the casualties."

At the word "casualties", Hermione looked apprehensive.

"Not too many, and luckily for us, no one was killed," Moody assured her. "Tonks is still out of it, and Charlie can't remember a thing that's happened to him for about a year, but Kingsley was just a bit bumped about. If they can find his ear, it should be easy enough to reattach, and –"

Thankfully, a distraction arrived at this moment in the form of a large screech owl, bearing a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. But at the sight of it, Harry choked on his toast.

"Hedwig!" he said loudly. "I left her in my bedroom at Grimmauld Place!" He stood up, horrified, scattering crumbs.

"Whoa, don't worry, Harry," said Bill. "Hedwig's fine, she must have flown out of the window or something; she arrived about half an hour ago. She's upstairs."

Harry sat down again slowly, relieved, but at the same time feeling guilty. He couldn't believe he'd left Hedwig in the burning, crumbling house in London; he would have to make it up to her with a large gift of Owl Treats, if she would accept them.

"All ready to go?"

Mrs Weasley, holding the paper that the screech owl had delivered, was looking harassed and jumpy; she shooed them out into the garden and up the front path.

The Ministry cars had been magically enlarged inside so that they would all fit, as Mr Weasley's old Ford Anglia had been. It didn't take long for them to get to London.

When they got into the foyer of St Mungo's, Harry was utterly shocked to have Mrs Weasley suddenly pounce on him without warning, drag him over to the Front Desk, and say to the receptionist, "Here he is."

"What?" said Harry, perplexed.

"You," Mrs Weasley told him sternly, "are going straight back into the private Ward; Healer Goodsbody told us how you slipped off last time, and your leg is by no means fully healed!"

Harry shot a furious glance at Ron, Hermione and the twins, who had all started laughing. "So was this just an elaborate plot to get me back in St. Mungo's?" he demanded.

"Well, no," said Mrs Weasley, as two junior Healers appeared and pushed him onto a stretcher. "We were going to St Mungo's anyway – but you stay here, this time!" She was still clutching the _Daily Prophet _in her hand; its pages were getting rather crumpled.

"We'll visit you, Harry!" Fred called after him, as Harry was borne away, fuming.

"I can walk!" he said indignantly to the Healers. "I don't need to be _carried_..." But his protests fell on deaf ears.

Soon Harry found himself back in the same very-white ward he had only left the night before, though so many things had happened since then that it felt like an age. The junior Healers left, and it was with great reluctance that Harry got back into his old bed. The Honking Daffodils that Luna had sent him were still sitting on the little bedside table, but they were wilting slightly. Perhaps it had been the effect of the Sleeping Draught. As he looked at them, one wobbled feebly and let out a small, rather pitiful, "honk".

"Harry! How are you?"

"Still here, Neville?" said Harry, looking over. "When are they going to let you out?"

"Oh, soon, probably. I'm feeling heaps better," said Neville, though he looked oddly serious.

"Good," said Harry. "Though you wouldn't be in here if it wasn't for me. Let's hope I don't get you in here again, right?"

But Neville didn't seem to be listening. He was looking rather uncomfortable. "Harry," he said. "Now that you're back, and we're alone, there's – there's something I've been meaning to say to you for ages –"

But he broke off as Harry's Healer swept over.

"Back, I see!" Healer Goodsbody's voice was stern, and not in the least amused. Harry was reminded irresistibly of Madame Pomfrey, and hid a grin.

What she proceeded to do next, however, gave Harry no cause for laughter. He winced as she – rather unsympathetically – cut away his bandages, and rubbed a stinging green paste into his half-healed wound. Harry looked at his leg, and wished he hadn't; under the bandages, the flesh was still nastily burnt, and altogether it was rather a messy sight. Harry was used to pain, but it was still no joke to lie there while the green paste smoked and smarted on his wound. He wondered briefly if the Healer was deliberately not bothering to stop it hurting, as revenge for him sneaking out on her.

"We heard what went on at the Ministry," she snapped. "I suppose filling Dolores Umbridge's office with bouncy balls was entirely necessary; more so than restoring your own health?"

"Er –"

"I just hope you didn't have anything to do with the assault on the Minister, because if _that_ was your important business, I am most certainly not impressed!"

"I – what assault?"

But the Healer had walked off, a small pile of empty tubes and bottles heaped in her arms, and the tub that had held the stinging green paste still smoking slightly.

"What assault, Neville?" Harry asked, looking over again to where the fair-headed boy lay.

"It was in the _Daily Prophet_," said Neville. "I'll show you – later. But I've been wanting to talk to you about something..." He was looking very awkward and embarrassed.

By now, Harry was thoroughly mystified and wishing very much that things didn't have to be so complicated all the time. "What?"

"I – I – it's about what I did," said Neville, who, now that he had the chance to say what was on his mind, seemed to be struggling. "The, you know, the Imperius – what I did, spying on you I mean."

"Oh," said Harry. He hadn't forgotten, but so much had been going on, and it hadn't been Neville's fault that he'd been put under the Imperius curse; Harry had been rather avoiding the subject, and it seemed so had Neville.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," said Neville, his face flushed and his eyes fixed on his bedspread. "I didn't do it deliberately, but I found out afterward that I'd been telling your plans to the Death Eaters ... I'm really sorry ..."

"I know," said Harry. "It's all right, Neville."

"But I could've got you all killed!" Neville burst out unhappily. Harry could tell that all this had been preying on Neville's mind for a while now. "I remember doing it now – flashes of it – and I sent them to Godric's Hollow –"

He was looking more and more guilty by the second.

"Well, we got out of it okay, didn't we, Neville?" said Harry bracingly. "We weren't hurt. Besides, you were having your mind controlled by a bunch of Voldemort's followers; _you _didn't send them there. You were just being used by them. Don't blame yourself, it could've happened to anyone. Really," he added firmly, but Neville still looked miserable.

"I had a coin," he said. Harry looked at him blankly. "A coin, like Hermione gave us for the DA – that's how I was doing it," clarified Neville. "The Death Eaters made me communicate with them through it."

"Forget it, Neville," said Harry firmly. "It wasn't your fault, and it's all in the past now anyway. Now, what's all this about me assaulting the Minister?"

As he had hoped, this took Neville's mind off the Death Eaters.

"No, they're not saying you did anything, Harry, that was just Healer Goodsbody joking – but it's not good." He reached over to this bedside table and picked up a copy of the same _Daily Prophet_ that Mrs Weasley had been holding earlier. "Have a look," Neville said, tossing the paper over to him.

Harry caught it, and got a shock as he saw the front page. The article was not long, but what it said made his mouth go dry.

**TREACHERY IN THE MINISTRY**

_Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic and renowned ex-Head of the Auror Office, was last night brutally assaulted and robbed whilst doing a routine check of the Department of Horcruxes (for more information about the Department of Horcruxes and how you can help, turn to page eight)._

"_The assault seems to have been connected to a recent breakout from Azkaban," said a worried spokesperson for the Minister. "Mr Scrimgeour and his assistants were Stunned and his keys were stolen – we are all very concerned that there is treachery about."_

_The unconscious Minister and his assistants were found within what is believed to be twenty minutes of their attack. In the meantime, a jailbreak had occurred, using the keys to the prison. A planned attack; but by whom?_

_The Ministry has expressed concerns that this may not be Death Eater activity. The escapee in question is Remus Lupin, a notorious werewolf, whom Aurors are doing their utmost to find. It is known that the werewolf had attempted to make friends within our community, and it is possible that these friends aided his flight._

_Trained experts are currently seeking to find these traitors to our side; anyone with any information is asked to contact ..._

Harry stopped reading. Yet another thing to worry about; were Mr Weasley and Moody going to be found and arrested for their "brutal" assault? After the battle in Hogsmeade, when they had tried to prevent the arrest, the Ministry knew that they had ties with Lupin. Whose name had been blackened even further. _Notorious_, Harry thought, snorting. Well, he just hoped Lupin had somewhere good to hide now that Grimmauld Place was wrecked (and they were going to have to sort that out, too).

"I wonder who did it – Stunned the Minister, I mean," said Neville thoughtfully. "If it wasn't a Death Eater –"

Harry glanced up and down the ward to check that they were indeed alone, then said quietly, "It was Ron's dad and Mad-Eye."

Neville's mouth dropped open.

"How do you know that?"

"Saw them at the Ministry," said Harry, folding up the paper and throwing it irritably aside. "And that would explain why Mrs Weasley was so grumpy this morning," he added, more to himself than Neville.

The door to the ward creaked open and Hermione came in.

"Hi, Harry, Neville!"

"Where's everyone else?" asked Harry, as she came over.

"Well, Ron's family are visiting Charlie," said Hermione, carefully avoiding looking at Harry's leg, which was still unbandaged and covered in the now-caking green paste.

"Is he okay?" asked Harry. "Moody said his memory –"

"He should be all right," said Hermione. "He can't remember anything that happened since last Christmas, but the Healer said that his memory will come back over time."

"And Tonks, is she...?"

"Still out of it," said Hermione flatly. "They can't get her to wake up, I can't imagine what Remus must be going through. He's not here, obviously – he's hiding, I don't know where."

"And – and Kingsley's ear?" asked Harry tentatively, not knowing if he really wanted to hear the answer.

"Oh – ah – well, it's probably somewhere in Grimmauld Place, you know. The Order are sending people round later to check the house, see how much they can salvage and repair. We're hoping they'll find it in the process."

"Right," said Harry, feeling slightly nauseous. "That's – that's good. Hermione, did Snape ever tell the Order how he got into Grimmauld? I mean, surely even if McGonagall is, well, _gone_, wouldn't the Fidelius Charm hold?"

"No," said Hermione, with certainty. "They still wouldn't know where it was, but it would be findable – so long as someone who knew where it was while the charm was in effect told them. So somebody obviously did."

"Who? Snape?"

"Not Snape, Harry, he came to warn us, didn't he? They don't know who, but I think they've got their suspicions." Hermione dropped her voice. "Sullius," she said quietly.

Harry was taken aback. "_Sullius?"_

"Shhh!" said Hermione. "Yes – he disappeared, you see, a few days ago, while we were in Hogsmeade. He was never on our side, Harry – he was just a rather good actor."

Sullius Rune, the rough-spoken, quiet werewolf; Lupin's friend, who he'd brought back with him. Sullius had been out and about a lot with the Order, helping; or so they'd thought. He had seemed genuinely grateful to Lupin, too – it just goes to show, Harry thought sourly.

"So Sullius betrayed our whereabouts to Voldemort? And got my house wrecked in the process?"

"We think so, Harry, yes."

"Git."

"Well, yes – but it is hard for werewolves, you know, rejected by our side. They get a better deal with Voldemort – respect, and power."

"Lupin deals with it!"

"Well, he's a good person!" said Hermione, shrugging. "And far too loyal to your dad and Sirius to ever go over to the Dark side," she added.

Harry was still angry, but it wasn't as though he could do anything about it; not until he came across Sullius again, at least. "I s'pose," he said grudgingly. "But still..."

Hermione changed the subject. "Have you seen the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Yeah, I know – they'd better not get found out..."

They passed the morning in companionable talk. They also had to explain everything to Neville, who hadn't known about McGonagall or the collapse of Grimmauld Place and had therefore been following their conversation so far with a rather bewildered expression.

"Did you say you caught Rodolphus Lestrange?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, and a wide grin spread across Neville's face.

"That's great! I can't wait to tell Gran – oh –" Neville's forehead furrowed. "I keep forgetting that she's dead," he said sadly. "I only really remembered it happening once the Order got the Imperius off me ... still, I'll bet Gran knows, somehow."

Just then, the Healer came bustling over with fresh bandages for Harry.

"Has the paste set?" she asked briskly, prodding it pitilessly. Harry winced. "Good, I'll just do these" – she waved her wand and the bandages wrapped themselves tightly around Harry's leg – "and now you'd better get some sleep. I hear you only had about three hours last night."

She gave him a flask of purple potion. "And if I find any of that in that daffodil vase, I shall take it out and ram it down your throat with my own hands!"

Slightly alarmed (she looked very capable of carrying out her threat), Harry hastily swallowed the Sleeping Draught. Healer Goodsbody smiled and walked off. Within seconds, Harry felt himself getting drowsy; he could just make out Hermione's blurred form quietly getting up from his bed before he sank, as through a thick fog, into a deep sleep.

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**Please review!!**


	23. Voldemort's Fury

remialcsiD: gnilwoR K. J. ot gnoleb sretcarahc lla. (It's called yvrut-yspoT language)

**Thanks, as always, go to my wonderful beta Mamacita-san!**

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Harry's sleep was interrupted only a few hours later, as evening fell on the quiet, cool hospital ward. 

"_Ow!_"

He cried out as a sudden bolt of pain shot unexpectedly through his forehead. But he was still caught in sleep, his mind torpid and slack – kicking, thrashing, Harry struggled to open his eyes; then, before he could wake, a vivid picture slowly swam into his mind. A shadowy room in which a dark-robed man with a chalk-white face and red eyes stood, smashing the glass windows around him with vicious, slashing movements of his wand. At last, Harry jerked awake, gripping his burning scar tightly with both hands. The pain was quickly fading, but he felt shaken and feverish and his bed sheets were damp with sweat.

"Mr Potter! Are you all right?"

Healer Goodsbody was walking hurriedly across the ward, her shadowy form growing clearer as she neared him.

Panting, Harry quickly lowered his hands. His scar was still tingling, a faint reminder of the shooting pain he had just experienced.

"What is the matter, Mr Potter? Is your leg bad?"

"I – y-yes," stammered Harry, his mind racing and his thoughts flying everywhere. "Sorry, it – it just hurt, suddenly. It's okay now –"

"Well, I'd better take a look at it, just in case," she interrupted, rolling up her sleeves and throwing back the bedcovers.

While she prodded, swabbed, and applied a new dressing to his leg, Harry shivered and swallowed, glancing around fearfully. He tried to calm himself down, with little success. Voldemort couldn't be here, not in St. Mungo's, but his scar hadn't hurt for so long that it had come as a huge shock. And that vision had frightened Harry more than he liked to admit: Voldemort, in a towering rage, breaking windows, red-pupilled eyes narrowed in fury. Dumbledore had said Voldemort had been applying Occlumency against Harry, preventing these random, horrible penetrations of Harry's mind into his own; what could have caused this sudden breakdown of the barrier?

"Well, this is looking much better," said Healer Goodsbody briskly, straightening up. "In fact, I should think you could walk quite normally tomorrow. You may even be home in time for Christmas, which I don't think anyone was expecting!"

"Right," said Harry vaguely, not really hearing what she was saying. At the moment, he just wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione. Though perhaps they would only worry about him? Then the Healer's words slowly took effect. "Wait – Christmas?" He looked at her properly for the first time, suddenly realising with an unpleasant shock that he had totally forgotten to get anybody gifts. "What's the date today?"

"The twenty-third of December," she said, and Harry's heart sank. He realised he was probably going to have to ask Hermione to do him a huge favour. "I think you'll be fit to go tomorrow evening," Healer Goodsbody continued. "We released Mr Longbottom while you were sleeping, he was much better."

"Oh – good," said Harry.

"Now, you go back to sleep – I'll get you some more Sleeping Draught –"

"No, don't bother," he said quickly, "no, I'm tired, I'll drop off soon."

He faked a yawn, and to his relief, Healer Goodsbody smiled and walked off.

In fact, sleep was the last thing on Harry's mind. Although his scar was already feeling perfectly normal (had Voldemort realised that Harry had again intruded into his mind, as he'd not done for over a year?) he was half-fearful that any moment now, he might get another unwanted vision. Wide-awake, and still shivering slightly, Harry lay on his back in the darkened ward, thinking...

"Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the windows of the hospital ward; it was late morning. He must have drifted off to sleep after all.

Hermione was back at his bedside.

"Ron and Ginny said they'd come up soon," she said. "They're just with Charlie at the moment."

"Oh – okay," said Harry, frowning and shaking his head to rid it of the last clinging vestiges of sleep; he had a feeling he'd been dreaming about a large, dark and somehow unpleasantly familiar place. But he pushed this thought from his mind. "Hermione, I'm glad you're here, I need to tell you something." He put on his glasses and checked quickly for potential eavesdroppers, though he needn't have worried; the ward was soothingly quiet, and apart from a single occupied bed in the opposite end of the room it was empty.

"Why, has something happened?" Hermione looked anxious.

"Don't panic, it might not mean anything, but..." Quickly, Harry filled her in, telling her of the brief vision he had seen the night before and how his scar had hurt so horribly and unexpectedly.

Looking as though she were trying extremely hard _not_ to panic, Hermione bit her lip unnecessarily hard. "Maybe Voldemort was just really angry, so angry that he let the Occlumency barriers slip," she suggested, her brown eyes troubled. "But what could have put him in such a temper?"

"No idea," said Harry. "But if he's annoyed, at least it's probably because something good happened on our side."

"Oh, of course, but I'm just worried he'll take it out on some random innocent Muggles or something."

"Yeah, exactly, that's just the sort of vile thing he'd do –"

The door of the ward burst open and Ron came in, closely followed by Ginny and his parents.

"Oh, Harry, you look much better!" Mrs Weasley beamed and hugged him. "Doesn't he, Arthur? He's stopped looking so awfully peaky and hassled!"

Ron gave a snort of laughter, which he hastily changed into a small coughing fit as Mrs Weasley looked round.

"Mum's in a good mood 'cause Charlie remembered a lot more this morning," said Ginny to Harry.

"Good," he said sincerely. "And how's Tonks?"

"Still out of it," said Mr Weasley soberly. "They think the curse will wear off, but it was an unusually powerful one, and the Healers are at a bit of a loss, to be honest."

"Don't worry about Tonks, Harry, she'll pull through," Mrs Weasley told him firmly. "Did they say when you can leave here – with _permission_?"

Harry grinned sheepishly; he no longer felt annoyed with Mrs Weasley for tricking him back here. After seeing the state his leg had been in, he was rather glad he hadn't neglected it any longer.

"Tonight," he told her. "So I'll be back for Christmas!"

"Excellent," said Ron happily.

"That's wonderful," said Mrs Weasley, smiling, then lowered her voice. "We'll be here to pick you up, Harry; to take you to our new Order headquarters."

Interested, Harry sat up a little straighter. "You found somewhere, then? Where?"

"Oh, somewhere that was practically begging to be used," said Mrs Weasley cryptically, giving him a small smile. "It's not quite as grand as Grimmauld, but it'll do. Remus and Severus are staying there at the moment, getting everything in order."

It was very hard to picture Snape and Lupin companionably sorting out a new headquarters together; Harry snorted with laughter as he imagined Snape's fury at being stuck with a man he hated so intensely.

"Oh, and Harry, would you like to go back to Grimmauld tomorrow, to help pick up the pieces? We've been back there briefly – to look for Kingsley's ear, we found it easily enough and it's reattached now – and there are some things we've discovered that you might be interested in."

"What?" said Harry, intrigued.

"You'll see," she said, ignoring his protesting look. "We'll see you tonight, then, Harry. Do you want to stay with him for a bit, you lot?"

Ron, Ginny and Hermione all nodded.

"We'll be with Charlie when you're ready, then. Oh, and I expect you'll be very happy after today's news, Harry dear!" And with that, she and Mr Weasley left the room.

"What?" said Harry, exasperatedly. "Your mum's not usually this secretive, is she, Ron? What 'news'? And do you know what she meant by 'things I might be interested in'?"

Ron shook his head. "No idea, mate. She won't tell us about the new headquarters, either. But the news –"

"Actually, tell me in a minute," said Harry quickly. "You need to know about something – I just told Hermione."

And again he went through the story of what he had seen the night before.

"Voldemort angry?" said Ron, but he didn't look too surprised. "I should think so – I suppose he heard about it pretty quickly."

"Heard about what?"

"Well, the 'news'; we didn't think you knew yet, Mum only got the paper about ten minutes ago," said Ron, with an oddly satisfied look on his face as he reached inside his robes. He brought out a rather squashed-looking copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and gave it to Harry, sitting down on the end of his bed. "Check it out, it made the front-page headline."

The headline was, simply, '_ONE DOWN_', and this article itself was only a few lines long. Harry skimmed it quickly, with growing excitement.

_Frederick Fool, head of the newly-created Department of Horcruxes, is delighted to announce a recent success that will help contribute to what we hope to be the eventual destruction of the self-styled Lord Voldemort. An opal necklace discovered by the late Percival Weasley (pictured) has been verified as a Horcrux, and was, last night, destroyed by a squad of hardy curse-breakers._

_As we all now know, a Horcrux is an object in which a portion of the soul has been placed, ensuring immortality so long as the object remains intact. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is believed to have created multiple such objects. But we are now one down, and honour Mr. P. Weasley for his noble contribution, achieved through willing self-sacrifice; an example to us all. For more information about Horcruxes –_

Harry stopped reading, feeling relief flood him, tingling to the very tips of his fingers. Ignoring the _Prophet_'s utterly erroneous assumptions about Percy's "discovery" of the Horcrux, Harry beamed.

"But this is brilliant!" he said. "The Ministry did it for us! And we don't have to sneak into the Ministry again – I mean, with Bill helping us later; it might not've been necessary if they hadn't nicked it in the first place, but still, I won't be complaining about them so much now."

Everyone else was smiling, too; Harry saw his relief reflected on Hermione's face (evidently she had not known, either).

"So it's just Hufflepuff's cup and Nagini we have to find now, and also get rid of the locket?" said Ron thoughtfully, helping himself to a generous handful of Chocolate Frogs from Harry's bedside.

"Yeah, the locket especially, it's been hanging around long enough," said Harry. He still had the Horcrux on him; he'd kept it close, in his pocket.

"Do you want us to give it to Bill?" asked Ron. "Maybe he could get to work on it this afternoon, before you get released. It'd be good if it wasn't hanging over you at Christmas."

"Yeah, it definitely would," agreed Harry. "Yeah, that'd be cool – do that, would you?" He shifted over, pulled the locket out of his robes and handed it carefully to Ron.

"Okay," said Ron, taking the locket and jumping up. "We might as well take it to Bill now, he can have a look at it even if he doesn't try anything yet – mind us going?"

"Not at all, only too glad to get that thing away from me, to be honest," said Harry. "But, er – Hermione, would you mind if I had a quick word with you?"

"What do you have to say to her that we can't hear?" demanded Ron, and Ginny, too, looked curious.

"Nothing," said Harry hastily. "No, seriously, I just need to ask about something, you'll know soon enough."

Looking rather put-out, Ron exited the ward, Ginny behind him.

Hermione was looking anxious. "What is it, Harry?"

"Hermione, I forgot to do my Christmas shopping," he said urgently. Hermione looked taken aback, and then laughed, as if she'd been expecting him to tell her something rather more worrying.

"Did you?" she said. "I did mine ages ago, by owl-order."

"Yeah, well, I meant to," said Harry. "Forgot, though, there's been too much happening. Would you do me a huge favour and –"

"Do your shopping for you?" said Hermione. "Of course – I'll ask Ron's mum if I can pop into to Diagon Alley for half an hour with her. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Yeah," said Harry gratefully, grabbing one of his many get-well cards and a pen. He quickly scribbled down a list of presents he'd been planning to buy on the back of the card, which squeaked in protest. "Here's some gold," he said, reaching for his moneybag, "and don't forget to go the Flourish and Blotts and buy yourself a nice book, okay?"

"Ooh, thank you, Harry!" she said, beaming. "Are you sure?"

"Well, actually, no – I don't think you really deserve a present from me this year, so don't bother –" He broke off, grinning, as Hermione swatted him.

"All right, then – I'll get right to it," she said, smiling and standing up. She skim-read the list. "Oh, Ginny will be over the moon when she get's that, Harry, she's wanted one for ages!"

"Good," said Harry, then noticed Ron peering suspiciously through the round glass window in the ward door. "Er – I think you should go back to Ron. Maybe he's getting worried about what we're doing?"

Hermione laughed. "I'll sort him out. See you, Harry."

As Hermione closed the door behind her, Harry faintly heard Ron say sharply, "What's that bit of paper he gave you? Let me see –" and then the sound of their voices arguing as they walked off down the corridor. Harry smiled to himself.

The rest of the day dragged by intolerably. Alternately, Harry slept, dozed, ate Chocolate Frogs or gazed in extreme boredom at the white ceiling, the white walls and the white beds. He wished dully that he'd brought _Quidditch Through The Ages_. Healer Goodsbody was busy in her office, so without even her to talk to, Harry found himself mulling over already much-pondered issues such as where Malfoy was, how Nagini could be hunted down, and (not again) how his stupid "power to love" could ever be any help at all against Lord Voldemort. It was a huge relief when Healer Goodsbody emerged from her office, took off his bandages, and told him that he was free to go.

"Brilliant!" Harry threw off his bedcovers enthusiastically. Glancing at his now paste-and bandage-free leg, he was relieved to find it looking almost normal again. It was certainly perfectly fine to walk on now.

He met Hermione, Moody, Kingsley (who looked very well, except that his left ear was a little askew) and several of the Weasleys in the Reception.

"Oh, Harry," beamed Mrs Weasley, hugging him. "Now you can enjoy Christmas properly! And Charlie's probably going to be celebrating with us, even though he'll have to come back afterwards for more memory-stimulating treatments."

"That's great!" said Harry, then realised that it was not only Charlie who was missing. "Where're Fred and George?"

"Diagon Alley," answered Ginny. "They'd left _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_ in someone else's hands for a while; they're just going to check everything's still okay, then they'll close for Christmas."

"They've done very well for themselves, I must say," said Mr Weasley. "Now, go quickly, we'd better get a move on." They began to move towards the exit.

"And after they've checked the Diagon Alley shop, they'll Apparate to their other three branches," continued Ron slightly bitterly. "I swear, they'll be millionaires in five years..."

"No harm in that, they can help you out if you're ever stuck for a job," said Hermione brightly as they reached the door. She was carrying a large, bulky-looking bag.

"Fat chance of that," said Ron, heaving a deep sigh. "So what's in the bag?"

"Ron, I've been counting and that's the fourteenth time you've asked that – I'm not telling you, so give up, won't you?"

Ron stumped out of St. Mungo's into the main street of London, muttering grumpily to himself. Kingsley, Bill, and Moody followed, and Mrs Weasley ushered the rest of them outside.

"Here you go, Harry, you take it," said Hermione, shoving the bag into Harry's hands. She glanced at Ginny. "Hers is coming," she added in an undertone. "Obviously I couldn't carry it out without her noticing, but I send it off to our headquarters; it should definitely be there by tomorrow morning, even tonight."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, patting her arm gratefully. "I owe you one. Er – where are we going?" He asked this of the group in general.

"The Leaky Cauldron," said Mr Weasley very quietly, glancing up and down the London street, crammed with puffing, hassled-looking Muggles doing their Christmas shopping. "Walk quickly, all of you, we're all the protection Harry's got right now!"

They broke into a casual half-jog, several times narrowly avoiding Muggles with their arms piled high with boxes and plastic bags.

"Why the Leaky Cauldron?" panted Harry, as he hurried along. "That's not the new head—"

"_Shh!_" hissed Mr Weasley, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him along even faster; they were nearing the dingy little pub that only members of the magical community could see. "Don't start talking about you-know-what out here! Get in there, now, quickly, all of you."

They pulled the old wooden door of the pub closed behind them. Harry felt as though an invisible clamp over his ears had suddenly shut out all sound. The silent pub was, as it had been last time, virtually empty. Unlike the noisy, clattering London street outside, there was only one man in here: old Tom the barman, wizened and gummy as ever.

"All right, Tom?" puffed Mrs Weasley, whose face was rather pink from running and the cold winter air. "I hope you don't mind this new arrangement?"

"Not at all, ma'am – but you won't be stopping for drinks, then?" Tom looked disappointed, but rather resigned and gloomy, as though he'd long given up expecting people to buy butterbeer and Firewhisky in his bar any more.

"I'm sorry, Tom, but we've got to get Harry here to somewhere a little more secure," she told him hastily. "Next time, maybe – now, which room was it? Number twenty-one? This way, Harry..."

She led the way up a flight of rickety stairs, then another, till they reached a grubby-looking door that led into an even grubbier-looking room, bare except for an unlit fireplace and a couple of dead mice.

"So – so this is the new headquarters?" asked Harry, feeling more and more confused. "Isn't it a bit small?"

"No, no, this is just the way in," said Mrs Weasley, sealing the grubby-looking door behind her with a wave of her wand. "It's been connected to one other fireplace only, in our new headquarters. It's more convenient that Apparating to London each time, and Tom won't say a word."

"Can't – can't anyone use this as an entrance, though?" said Harry, looking at the fireplace.

"No, no," Mrs Weasley assured him. "Until we can get hold of Filius to do the Fidelius Charm to make it completely safe, we've got a way to make sure no one comes in through this entrance, at least."

"What's that?" said Harry, as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody and Bill carefully stepped one by one into the unlit fireplace, glowed for a second with an eerie blue light and vanished.

"You can only get in if you're a member of the Order," said Mrs Weasley, smiling.

"Oh," said Harry slowly. "Okay..."

"We did wonder if you were going to ask to become a member," continued Mrs Weasley, "seeing as two years ago you pestered us so much about it! But you never did, so we thought, perhaps, you wanted to get on with your – your Horcrux hunt – yourselves?"

"Well...yeah, we did," said Harry. "But that was because we were trying to keep it all secret. Now – well, now you and the rest of the world know what we're trying to do, so – so I suppose there's no harm in telling the Order the full story?"

"Only if you want to, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "But the others have all joined just to get access to our new headquarters! If you become a member, you can just come to meetings if you ever need our help – does that suit you?"

"Ye – I dunno – wait, Ron and – and – you're all members?" asked Harry of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were grinning. "You've already been to headquarters?"

"You won't believe where it is," said Ron. "Couldn't believe it myself."

"Needs a bit of a clean-up, again, though," said Ginny, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Neville joined the Order, too," she added.

Harry felt rather left out. "Where is it?" he demanded, but they just shook their heads, grinning still more.

"You'll see," said Hermione. "He'll join," she told Mrs Weasley.

"Er – yeah, all right, then," said Harry, attempting to sound casual. "So what do I do?"

"_You_ just stand still," said Mrs Weasley, taking out her wand. "It won't take long. Close your eyes, Harry, dear...that's it."

He shut them obediently, and felt Mrs Weasley rap him hard on the head, three times, with her wand.

"_Frater Evinxi!_" she cried.

A most peculiar sensation flooded Harry's body; a tingling, warming feeling that was not unpleasant, that made him suddenly feel as though he were surrounded by dozens of people he had known all his life, all protecting him, and he was completely one of them...

He opened his eyes to see Mr and Mrs Weasley and the others all smiling at him. Slowly, the warm feeling faded, and he felt normal again, but slightly stronger, somehow.

"That's it?" he said, looking at them. "I'm a member?"

"That's it, and yes, you are." Mrs Weasley pocketed her wand, still smiling at the look on Harry's face. "Come now – let's go, everyone!"

One at a time, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stepped into the grate, glowed blue, and disappeared.

"Go on, Harry, we'll follow," said Mr Weasley.

Intensely curious yet slightly apprehensive of what he was about to find, Harry walked forward, and put one foot into the grate.

It was not quite like travelling by Floo powder. Harry felt another strange sensation, like he was being swept forward by a sudden violent gust of wind. Then his body was suddenly weightless, blown along as easily as a leaf in a gale – he was whooshing through a dark tunnel, his whole body crackling with electric-blue light.

Then his feet hit hard floorboards. His body suddenly became heavy again, and as all the weight dropped back into his body, Harry lost his balance, staggered, and fell over.

Before he looked up, Harry had a sudden, eerie feeling that he'd been here before. His hands were covered in dust where they'd hit the scratched wooden floor, and there was a certain silent, mournful quality about the air.

"Hello, Harry."

Remus Lupin pulled Harry to his feet.

"Welcome to our headquarters," he said, a small smile on his face, and Harry, staring, shook his head slowly. He couldn't believe the place the Order of the Phoenix had chosen for their station.

He was standing in the Shrieking Shack.

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**Please review!! Or, weiver esaelP, whichever you prefer!**


	24. Christmas Eve

Disclaimer: Wasn't, isn't, and never will be mine...

**Erm...now that Deathly Hallows is out, I just want to say that it isn't going to influence this fic in any way. Some of the details, e.g. Horcrux-destroying/Polyjuice only working for humans, are now not going to be canon, but I won't mess up my plot to make it so!**

* * *

_Christmas Eve_

* * *

The stars shone faintly through the dusty windows, and the room was washed in bright white light. The moon was nearly full. Harry looked over to the snow-covered village of Hogsmeade, nestled in a dip in the countryside, then pulled the ragged hangings closed so the room was sealed in darkness. 

"I can't believe they chose this place for Headquarters," he said, turning away from the window.

"I know," came Ron's voice from the far side of the room. "They must be mad, but it's great."

"Ye-es," said Hermione's voice doubtfully. "It's interesting, I suppose, but I'm not sure I quite like sleeping here."

Ron gave a snort. "What are you scared of – werewolf ghosts?"

Harry picked his way across the dark room, using Hermione's bedposts – which were, like the rest of the old furniture, marked by deep scratches – to navigate his way back to his own bed, being careful not to step on Ginny on the way.

The four of them were squashed into one of the smallest rooms; the Shrieking Shack was not particularly large, but it was having to accommodate more people than ever in its history. Ginny, on a mattress on the floor, was already sleeping like the dead, but Harry was still wide-awake. So were Ron and Hermione. The wind, mixed with snow, rattled the windowpanes very slightly, and the room would have been cold had Hermione not sensibly cast a light Heating Charm before they settled down. Now Harry found himself enjoying lying in the warmth and comfort while the snowy wind howled outside the house.

There was a rustle of sheets from one of the beds. In the dark, Harry could only dimly see Hermione propping herself up on the pillows.

"Only one day till Christmas," she said reflectively. "Strange, isn't it? The time's going so quickly. Just think, we'd be halfway through our NEWTS if we'd stayed at Hogwarts." She could not quite keep the note of disappointment from her voice.

"And that's a bad thing?" said Harry.

Ron laughed, but then there was silence, broken only by a small sigh. Harry did wonder briefly if he would prefer to be studying for exams right now, and felt comforted when he immediately felt he would not. However dangerous his current position, he knew he couldn't have cooped himself up in Hogwarts, pretending to be ordinary, while the rest of the world fought his war. Whatever happened, he was determined to at least make Voldemort mortal once more if he did not ultimately win. The suppressed yet very acute fear of what lay in store for him made Harry feel jumpy, and he was highly glad when Ron spoke again.

"It's not like we won't see Hogwarts again, Hermione," said Ron. "We've got to go to the Chamber of Secrets to get the cup –"

"Look for the cup," corrected Hermione. "Dumbledore was only guessing."

"Okay, look for it, whatever. But we'll get a chance to look round Hogwarts again, see how everyone's getting on."

Harry laughed. "I don't think so," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort's got spies in the school – or – or teachers under the Imperius, maybe. We can hardly pop up and announce, 'Hey, everyone, look who's come to visit!' can we?"

Ron paused. "You've got a point," he said at last. "I feel like a fugitive!"

Hermione shuddered. "Imperiused teachers? More like that Barty Crouch – ugh – what an awful thought."

"Talking of teachers – has Flitwick done the Fidelius Charm on this place yet?" asked Ron suddenly. "I know Mum said he was going to, but are we protected right now?"

Harry sat up, alarmed. All of a sudden, the walls of the Shrieking Shack seemed very thin, and the outside world too close for comfort. He was on the point of nervously getting up and looking out of the windows again when Hermione shushed them both.

"Don't worry," she said calmly. "Professor Flitwick came just after dinner, didn't you notice?"

"No, there were loads of people here," said Harry. He was relieved: at least they were safe for the time being. "That's good. So the Charm's all done? Who's the new Secret Keeper?"

"Oh – I don't know," said Hermione falteringly. Harry realised that she was thinking of McGonagall and his insides wrenched.

"Never mind," he told her, and changed the subject with alacrity. "So when are we going to the Chamber, anyway?" he asked. "I want to go soon. What with being stuck in St Mungo's it's been ages since Dumbledore mentioned it."

"Tomorrow?" suggested Ron. "It'll be cool to get it off our chests before Christm—"

"We can't," Hermione interrupted. "We're going to Grimmauld Place tomorrow."

"Oh yeah." Ron raised himself up on one elbow thoughtfully. "Have to be the day after Christmas then. Did Mum tell you about that, Harry?"

"Grimmauld Place? Er – she said they'd found something in the wreckage, but she wouldn't say what."

"She wouldn't tell us, either," shrugged Ron. "Only that it was too big to get out right away, and besides, seeing as it's your inheritance, Mum wanted you to see it first. So we're going back to London tomorrow, just quickly."

Harry was intrigued. "Sounds interesting," he said. "That place was full of secrets. I'm almost glad it's wrecked, though; I think Sirius would be happy to know it. He would've loved to smash it up himself."

"We were lucky to get out of there alive," said Hermione in a low voice. "With that many Death Eaters, and the house falling in nearly on top of us, I'm amazed no one was killed."

"Mm," said Harry, and hesitated. Something had been preying on his mind for a while now, and he wanted to get Ron and Hermione's opinions on it – though perhaps it was just a stupid fear. "We were luckier than you think," he said at last, fiddling with his bed-sheets. "It was only Death Eaters after us."

"_Only_ –"

"Why wasn't Voldemort there?" he said shortly. "And why wasn't he fighting at Hogsmeade? What's he doing instead?"

There was a very long pause. Ginny gave a soft sigh and turned over in her sleep.

"We haven't seen him since Godric's Hollow," continued Harry, when neither of them spoke. "I don't get it – why isn't he using every opportunity to try to kill me?"

"The Death Eaters were just trying to retrieve the locket from Grimmauld; I suppose he wouldn't want to trap himself in there with the Order, " said Hermione tremulously.

"But why – oh heck – Hermione!"

"What?" she said hurriedly.

"I forgot, does Bill still have the locket?"

"Oh," she said, relaxing. "I've got it here. I asked Bill if he was ready to help get rid of it. He's already doing some research; he said he'd seen something about destroying Horcruxes in his curse-breaking training, but he didn't want me to give him the locket yet."

"He was worried he might lose it," said Ron, yawning. "When he's found out how to do it, he said he'd tell us."

In the darkness, Harry could faintly see Hermione's outline as she pulled the locket-chain from around her neck and leant over to give it back to him. He felt a kind of relief mixed with repulsion as he took it; he could never reconcile himself to carrying around part of Voldemort's soul.

"Thanks," he said. "But back to Voldemort –"

"Can you, please, just for now, say You-Know-Who?" asked Ron in a pained voice.

"Why isn't Voldemort chasing me?" Harry ploughed on doggedly, ignoring Ron. He pulled the locket-chain over his head, shivering as the cold metal touched his skin. "He could have come to Grimmauld – cornered me – he should have done!"

"I dunno, but you could try asking Snape. He knew You-Know-Who's plans," suggested Ron. Harry couldn't see Ron's expression in the dark but knew perfectly well that he was smirking.

"Oh, I'm sure Snape would be delighted to have a cosy little chat with me," said Harry. "Like father and son, a little heart to heart..."

Ron and Hermione laughed. Then Hermione said seriously, "Well, the only reason I can think of for Voldemort not showing up in person any more, Harry, is that he's scared."

"Why now, just like that?"

"He knows that you know about his Horcruxes, the _Daily Prophet _made sure of that. And I think he knew a while ago that you had the locket –"

"How do you f—fi—gure that one out?" asked Ron, attempting unsuccessfully to smother another yawn.

"I'm pretty sure that a Death Eater who is now free heard our conversation with Mundungus in Azkaban," Hermione said simply. "Possible Lucius Malfoy. Anyway, I think Voldemort's afraid. He doesn't know how far you've got, which of his Horcruxes are safe; he's probably checked the ones he could, and some are missing, which is going to worry him."

"But," said Harry slowly, "he'll have to face me sometime. He knows that."

"Perhaps he's refusing to believe it any more and is hoping he can skulk in the background while his Death Eaters finish you off," she murmured. "Fear can really mess up people's minds."

"I think he's got something up his sleeve," said Harry stubbornly. "He's not going to wait till he's mortal before he goes after me."

"But he's scared of meeting you in person," said Hermione. "You've got to be careful, he might try a backhanded way of getting at you!"

"That was what I was worried about. I wonder if he already knows we're here?"

"Probably, he'll have spies everywhere – but he can't get in here anyway," said Hermione. "The Fidelius Charm sees to that."

"True...you awake, Ron?"

There was no answer except a small, grunting snore.

"He's asleep," said Hermione unnecessarily.

"Yeah...maybe it's not a bad idea – whoa, what was that?" A scratching, tapping sound had come from outside the window, and Harry sat up in alarm.

"It's here!" exclaimed Hermione, jumping up and tiptoeing to open the curtains. "The owl you're giving Ginny for Christmas. I told you it was flying from London."

"That was fast," said Harry, impressed. Hermione struggled for a while to open the rusty window-catch, finally taking out her wand with an impatient 'tch!' One sharp tap and the window sprang open with a loud creak. Both of them threw a nervous glance over their shoulders at Ginny's sleeping form. She didn't stir, and the young tawny owl tumbled in, landing in Hermione's arms with a tired hoot.

"Take her, quickly, don't wake Ginny up," Hermione said.

Harry held out his arm, and the owl hopped onto it, feathers rustling. "Er – I'll hide her in the attic for now," he muttered, inching his way across the room. "There'll be plenty of mice up there for her to catch." He held his breath as he moved around Ginny's bed, then opened the door stealthily.

He and Hermione looked at each other and giggled nervously, Hermione adding in a whisper, "And put a Silencing Charm on her. Imagine if she starts hooting tomorrow!"

Some of the Order were evidently still awake; Harry could hear voices and people moving downstairs as he crept along the landing towards the attic ladder. When he had settled the young owl in the dust-filled loft and was climbing back down, Harry was a little discomfited to see Snape ascending the stairs to the upper landing. His old Potions teacher's eyes glinted, even in the dark, at the sight of him.

"I was just – putting an owl up there," muttered Harry, hating that he had to explain to Snape; but he couldn't risk him mentioning it to the Order in case Ginny heard before Christmas Day.

"Really," said Snape dismissively, and swept away towards the room in which he was sleeping. As he passed, he added, "Do not imagine I am ever interested in your petty affairs, Potter." His bedroom door clicked behind him. Harry rolled his eyes. Judging from Snape's attitude, no one would ever know that he, Harry, had just dissuaded the entire Order of the Phoenix from cursing the ex-Professor to smithereens just a few days ago.

When he returned to his own room, Hermione had dropped off to sleep also. Harry had thought he was still wide awake, but he had had a long day. He drew himself back into bed, yanked the covers about him, and forgetting to take off his glasses, dozed off.

* * *

"I want you downstairs in five minutes, you lot!" Mrs Weasley rapped smartly on their bedroom door, then pushed it open. The four of them groaned and Harry thought drowsily that it couldn't possibly be morning yet. Surely he'd only closed his eyes a moment ago? He felt himself slipping gently back into the so-comfortable sleep he'd just been in. Mrs Weasley's voice went on, drifting over his all-but-unconscious mind. "We're going to London in a minute, dears. I'm sure you'll be very interested in what we found at Grimmauld Place..." 

There was a pause. "You're not listening to me, any of you! Right – _A__ccio __bedcovers__!"_

Harry was jerked rudely awake as his bedcovers zoomed off his body and into Mrs Weasley's arms. There were yells of surprise from all around the room as the same thing happened to the others.

"Mum! What if we'd been sleeping naked or something?" demanded Ron, who was fully pyjama-clad.

Mrs Weasley dumped the pile of bedding on the floor. "I should hope not, Ron, not when you're sharing a bedroom with Hermione and your sister – now, everyone get dressed and downstairs as soon as you can, I've got too much to do today to hang around waiting for you lot." And she bustled off.

"Jeez," grumbled Ginny, shivering and gathering up her clothes. "That's why you don't want to get Mum in a bad mood." She slumped out of the dusty old room to get changed.

"Don't know what she's complaining about. I feel like I've only had about two hours sleep," said Ron irritably.

"I know," said Hermione. "Turn around while I get dressed, please."

They were downstairs in the required five minutes, and being hurried through the fireplace and into the bare little room at the Leaky Cauldron the second they had laid down their breakfast spoons. Bill, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Mad-Eye Moody accompanied them.

When they had all arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Mrs Weasley led them into another room in the inn where a second fire burned bright green.

"This Floo leads to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, ex-Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Moody told Harry and the others in his low, growling voice.

"Er – we know," said Ron uncertainly, possibly thinking that Moody had gone senile. "Why are you telling us?"

"Oh, get in there, go on!" barked Moody, shoving Ron unceremoniously into the fireplace. When Harry and the others had followed, and they were all assembled in the wrecked living room at Grimmauld Place, Moody turned to Ron with his magical eye spinning irritably in its socket.

"I was telling you, nitwit, because Filius re-did the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld, and I'm the new Secret Keeper!"

"Oh," said Ron, abashed. "Right."

"This way, everyone," said Bill in a pacifying sort of voice, and led the way out of the room. "Watch your footing," he warned. "It's all held up by protective spells now, so nothing will fall on you, but it's not easy walking in here."

Harry picked his way with difficulty over the rubble and huge chunks of fallen ceiling, interested and slightly bemused. What had been found in Sirius' old house that was worth showing him? As he climbed over a collapsed door-frame, Harry almost felt sorry for the ancient dwelling. It was utterly beyond repair: most of the first floor had fallen in, and they had had to squeeze through a gap made by a wooden beam which had fallen against the wall even to get into the main hallway. Everything still had a worrying look of being about to crumble even further, but the protective charms were evidently strong enough: not a brick shifted except those on the floor they disturbed as they walked. The kitchen was entirely inaccessible, piles of cracked stone and plaster blocking it completely, and shattered picture frames cracked under Harry's feet as he followed Mr Weasley through the debris.

"Watch it!" squeaked a painting of a sour-looking old man as Harry accidentally trod on it. "Throwing me off my space on the wall like that then trampling all over my face, oh, I never thought I should see the day..."

"Oh, the portrait of Sirius' mum is all smashed up, by the way," said Bill, as Harry turned the painting of the old man face-down with his foot to shut it up. "It got hit by a curse, and then half of Sirius' brother Regulus' old bedroom fell in on top of her. Thought you'd be happy to hear that, Harry – am I right?"

"Definitely!" agreed Harry, looking at the pile of rubble and floorboards which hid Mrs Black's broken portrait from view. "Shame Sirius doesn't know, he'd be delighted – so where is this thing you're showing me, anyway?"

"Upstairs," said Mrs Weasley as they finally all reached the end of the hazard-strewn hallway. The eight of them climbed the stairs, which were twisted and crushed beyond recognition, with some difficulty, but at last Harry got to the top. A crazy sight met his eyes.

"What on earth?" he said, completely taken aback. Thousands of books – ancient, leather bound and mysterious – were piled up all over the caved-in floor, sinking into crevasses, wedged between fallen stones and spilling their yellowed pages over the powder-covered carpet. Hermione gave an "Oh!" of amazement and delight when she saw them, and immediately bent down to sift through the mountain.

"Where did this come from?" said Harry in confusion. "I didn't know Sirius had all these..."

"He didn't," said Bill. "At least, he didn't know he did – this is what remains of the Black family library, Harry. Sealed off for centuries. It was in a hidden, apparently magically-compressed room on the second floor, and it broke up and landed here when the place fell in."

"Why was it sealed off?" asked Harry, kneeling down and picking up some of the books. They felt very old, and gave him the same prickly feeling on the back of his neck as the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts Library did.

"Well, there was an old story that one of Sirius' ancestors, Cygnus Black, once got mad because he failed all his OWLs," said Mr Weasley. "He left Hogwarts, came back home in a temper, and in his newfound hatred for books, born from his disgrace, vowed to get rid of them all...that was around the time the library disappeared. Cygnus must have hidden it very well, because his family – who were, as you can imagine, not very pleased with him – never did find it again."

"Anyway, as they are yours we thought you should take a look," Mrs Weasley told him. "Will half an hour be enough?"

"For what?" asked Harry.

"Well, if you take a quick look and pick out whichever ones you think you might like to keep, then we can take them back to Headquarters," said Mrs Weasley. "I don't like to hurry you, but it's Christmas Eve and I have rather a lot to be getting on with today."

"Oh, of course," said Harry. "We'll be quick. Seen anything you like, Hermione?"

Hermione had already set aside several volumes. "Oh yes," she said. "There's some really good stuff in here – we could find this very useful," she added in a low voice, and Harry knew she meant for fighting Voldemort. These were just the sort of books they needed.

They all rummaged through the pile of worn, stained manuscripts, picking out those which contained duelling spells: curses and hexes, many of which looked very vicious.

They ignored books with titles such as _How to Hatch a Basilisk_ and _Why Purebloods Are Better_. Upon finding _Seventy Ways to Kill a Muggleborn_, Harry carefully slid it under a heap of rejected books, out of Hermione's sight. Returning to the main pile, his interest was caught by a small, rather striking volume with a bright green cover. The title was, simply, _Possessed_.

"Is that enough, Harry dear?" asked Mrs Weasley, and Harry turned. The eight of them had accumulated a small mountain of books, and Hermione was looking very happy.

"Yeah, that's great," said Harry, quickly adding the little volume he had just picked up onto the pile, face-down. "Thanks for bringing us here, Mrs Weasley. These are going to be really helpful."

"Oh, it was no problem, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "You can take a look at them this afternoon while I bake the Christmas cake and put up the decorations, that'll get you out from under my feet at least. Now, if we just shrink these, we'll be able to carry them back more easily..."

So saying, she flicked her wand casually. Half a dozen books from the selected pile flew up into the air, revolved slowly, then zoomed into the small sack whose mouth she held open, shrinking almost to nothing as they squeezed inside. Mrs Weasley handed the sack to her husband, saying, "There, Arthur, that's enough for you to carry," then repeated the procedure until they all held a bag of shrunken books. Harry was surprised to find his little bag very heavy; it seemed that the shrinking was just for carrying convenience, and did not make the weight any less.

"We'll leave the rest as they are," said Mrs Weasley. "We've got more important things to do than sort them out – they'll have to wait until this dreadful war is over, if it ever is..."

"Don't get downhearted," said Mr Weasley quickly. "It's Christmas Eve. Come on, let's get home. Remus should be back by now."

"Where was he?" asked Ginny.

"Visiting Tonks," said Moody grimly. "She's still flat on her back in St. Mungo's. Recovered consciousness after a week, but she'll be staying over Christmas."

"The Healers say that it was a Crudus Curse that hit her," added Bill sadly, as they made their slow way through the rubble back down the stairs. Hermione looked horrified.

"A what?" said Harry and Ron together.

"Crudus Curses basically drain everything from you," said Hermione quietly. "Take away all your energy, even your magic to some extent...it's not permanent, but poor Tonks!"

"She'll get better," Mrs Weasley said kindly. "But it may take a while – she's taking all the Strength-Replenishing potions she can get down. If she's lucky, she'll be out of the hospital in a few weeks, though, and she can rest at Headquarters."

Still, the thought of Tonks stuck in St Mungo's over Christmas, drained of all her usual bounce and vigour, was not a nice one, and they were all rather quiet as they made their slow way back to the Shrieking Shack. Remus Lupin, who had gone to the hospital carefully disguised, met them as they arrived. He looked drawn and anxious, and bore the unhappy news that Tonks would not be able to leave St. Mungo's until January at least.

"Her energy's just gone," he said flatly, passing a hand over his eyes. "So has most of her magic, and her Metamorphing ability. It _will_ return, but very slowly – if she gets involved in another skirmish before she's ready, there'll be no chance."

"Don't worry about that until it happens, Remus, which it won't if I have anything to do with it," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "Come and have something to eat, and I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

After lunch, Harry went upstairs with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to have a proper look through the books they had acquired. They were interesting, and often incredibly gruesome. Worse than those that Hermione had taken from the Hogwarts Restricted Section, many of these contained magic almost more sadistic than Harry felt he cared to use, even on Death Eaters.

But while the others were exclaiming over curses that dragged a person's heart out through their mouth, or bent bones until the victim would be crippled for life, Harry caught sight of a familiar bright green cover and picked up that little book he had found right at the end. _Possessed_, he thought, was an unusual title, and he flicked through with gathering interest.

"_To possess another's soul is to temporarily blend one's own with that other...a dangerous art that opens up realms of possibilities...more subtle than the Imperius, the victims will succumb..."_

Intrigued, but for some reason feeling he'd rather the others did not know he was looking into such a Dark Art, Harry slipped the book inside his robes. Both it and the locket bumped gently against his body whenever he moved.

"That's enough of this," said Ginny finally, throwing down _Worse than Cruciatus_ and standing up. "It's Christmas Eve, let's not look at Dark Art stuff any more...let's look at the Christmas decorations instead!"

They went downstairs to find the place draped with red and gold hangings and a tree frosted with magic snow standing in the corner. It looked cheerful enough, but rather sad compared to Harry's memories of the splendour of Hogwarts at Christmastime.

They sat up late that evening, drinking eggnog and butterbeer, and made conversation; but the red hangings did not quite hide the dreary scratched-up appearance of the Shack and somehow none of them felt in a very Christmassy mood. Harry could tell Lupin did not like being in this place, so full of unpleasant memories, any more than Sirius had liked being stuck in Grimmauld for a year, and the knowledge of Tonks' condition weighed on everybody's minds. Snape, too, sat in the corner looking dissatisfied and grim, robed as always in black. It was almost a relief when Mr Weasley suggested they all go to bed.

The four of them trooped upstairs and into their little bedroom. Harry crossed the room to close the curtains, as he had the night before, but when he reached the window, he froze.

"What is it?" said Hermione, when Harry did not pull the curtains shut but continued to stare outside. He could have sworn he had seen a hooded, dark-robed figure standing in the snow looking up at the Shack. But an instant later, the figure was gone.

"Wha—nothing," said Harry quickly. He did not want to worry her. "I – er – thought I saw something, but I must have imagined it...just getting jumpy." He closed the hangings before she could say anything more and got into bed.

"Goodnight, then," said Hermione, still looking slightly suspicious; but she did not press him.

"'Night," replied Ron, who was already half-asleep. Harry closed his eyes, mentally going over what he had seen: he had definitely seen _someone_, but after all, they were protected by the Fidelius Charm, so no Death Eater could get in, and who was to say it had been a Death Eater he had seen, anyway? Harry's mind was groggy from all the eggnog. Almost without knowing it, he gradually stopped worrying about the mysterious figure and slipped into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Thanks to Mamacita-san for sorting out my screwy punctuation! And I would love you to review, it's been ages (my fault, of course) and I really miss them!**

**xxx**


	25. Nagini

Disclaimer: Not J. K. Rowling, I own nothing.

**Thanks to my beta, Mamacita-San **–** she's amazing!**

* * *

That night, Harry had a very strange dream. He was standing on the snow-covered ground on the hills above Hogsmeade, looking up at the Shrieking Shack. A huge snake was slithering round his feet, and black-robed figures stood in a circle around him.

"Keep your wands at the ready," he heard himself say quietly to the onlookers. "If anyone comes out of the house, then you know what to do."

Soft laughter and a murmur of "Yes, master," went round the circle and Harry turned away, giving a faint hiss that lingered in the frosty air. The snake at his feet turned its head to look at him. Harry could see his red eyes reflected in the snake's dark, shining ones.

"It is time, Nagini," he whispered in Parseltongue, and drew his wand from beneath his robes. "I cannot get in alone, but you will aid my triumph over the boy..._Agonus Anima!"_

Harry's vision contorted and for a moment everything went blindingly white. When he could see again, the ground was much closer to him, and his body felt heavy, powerful and sinuous. It was a familiar feeling; Harry was looking out at the silent, snowy land through Nagini's eyes.

His eyes fixed on the not-so-distant Shack, Harry began to slither uphill over the freezing ground. The Death Eaters stepped back respectfully to let the great snake pass. Harry was soaked with snow by the time he had reached the dilapidated building, and the moon threw his winding shadow into sharp relief against the ground as he nosed his way along the side of the Shack. Soon he found a good-sized crack in the wood and effortlessly slid his long, flexible body through the gap. He was inside, underneath the floorboards.

The house was quiet, and the room above him was only faintly lit by a chink of moonlight coming through a pair of curtains that had not been pulled completely together. Harry soon found a loose floorboard and pushed it up and aside. Rising smoothly up, tongue flickering, he crossed the room and moved into the darkened hallway. There was no movement, nor any sound: no one was downstairs.

Harry's pulse was racing and tremors of excitement ran up and down his body as he began, noiselessly, to mount the wooden stairs. He tasted the air with his flickering tongue and then wound his way along the upper corridor. All his senses were alive with anticipation. There were several scratched doors before him, and he paused. Listening, he could hear the breathing of several young humans in one of the rooms. So close to that which he sought, a new rush of exhilaration churned within him. He slid swiftly to the door of that room, and began to nudge it open...

* * *

Harry woke from his dream with a shout of panic, knowing even before he opened his eyes what he would see. A massive snake reared up from the floor with a terrible hiss, fangs glistening, and its eyes fixed directly on his.

"NO!" Harry yelled as he saw the snake's eyes gleam a familiar menacing red; there were cries of alarm from all around as the others awoke, and from her cage Hedwig gave an ear-splitting screech. But Harry barely heard; he was already throwing himself bodily backwards, kicking the bedcovers at the snake so that it hissed furiously again and was forced to back off momentarily. As it drew back, spitting, Harry launched himself towards his bedside table and his wand. But it was too late: Nagini, swift and deadly, was upon him. Thick, powerful coils slid rapidly over his body, whipping round his chest, crushing and tightening. Her open jaws were just inches from his face – Harry wrenched himself backwards with a backbreaking effort and the fangs missed him by a hair's breadth. But his muscles were screaming in pain and he was weakening rapidly under the terrible pressure of Nagini's coils; the room began whirling before Harry's eyes as he struggled to free himself.

Seemingly from a long way off, Hermione's voice at last screamed, "_Stupefy!_" The room lit up with bright red light, but her spell seemed just to bounce off the smooth scales of the snake. Nagini spat and hissed, then open her jaws to reveal her lethal fangs – she was going to strike.

But then Ron was at Harry's side, wandless and wrestling with Nagini herself; he grabbed the snake's neck clumsily and threw his weight backwards, trying to drag her head away from Harry's face. A second later, Ron fell back with a cry of agony: Nagini had sunk her fangs into his shoulder. Panicking, Harry fought against the darkness taking over his oxygen-deprived mind and thought with all his remaining strength, "_Levicorpus!"_

The snake flew bodily off him, hissing and thrashing in the air. Harry tumbled painfully onto the floor, breathless and aching, just as the door banged open. Moody and Mr Weasley were suddenly in the bedroom, wands held high, and the sound of running feet outside told that more help was on the way.

"_Incarcerous!_" Ropes burst from both Moody and Mr Weasley's wands towards the snake. But Nagini's eyes gleamed red, and she fell out of the air back onto the floor before the ropes reached their target; they tangled in the air and fell to the floor in a huge knot. The angry snake reared up once more, and Harry, dizzy and on the verge of passing out, did not move out of the way quickly enough. This time, Nagini struck straight and true – directly at Harry's chest.

"_STUPEFY!" _and_ "Impedimenta!" _roaredseveral voices all at oncebut as before, the spells had no effect on the snake. There was a horrible splintering sound, a crack and a flash of blood-red light, and Harry's chest seared with scorching pain.

Nagini fell to the floor, writhing and thrashing, and with a horrible suddenness Harry was thrown back inside the snake's mind. He could see his own human body lying senseless on the floor before his eyes. But he – Nagini – was in agony, weakening rapidly, and there were people all about him who pinned him down with Binding spells. He felt as though he were dying. Pain was shooting through every muscle in his long snake's body, and the life was draining out of him with terrifying sureness. Something dark deep within him was struggling and contorting, trying to get out. His strength was gone – there was no fight left in him. His head fell to the floor.

And then Harry was screaming in fury back outside in the snow, surrounded by his hooded Death Eaters. He – or Voldemort? – was angrier and more anguished than he could ever remember having been in his entire life...

"_Harry! _Wake up! HARRY!"

Someone was shaking him very hard, and Harry opened his eyes. He was flat on his back on the floor, exhausted and panting as though he had run a race. He felt sick and weak, and his racing mind took several seconds to realise that he was at last himself again – not inside Voldemort or Nagini. His chest felt as though it were on fire, but his confused senses somehow registered that this was not the pain of a bite. The room was crowded with shocked and shouting Order members, and beside Harry was the lifeless body of Nagini whose eyes were turning dull with death.

"Harry, don't move, you've been bitten –" Remus Lupin was bent over him, concern in every taut line of his face. Ginny, pale and trembling, gripped Harry's hand very tightly in her own, and a shaken-looking Hermione knelt close by. From her cage in the corner, Hedwig clicked her beak in agitation and hooted.

Harry struggled to speak. "No," he panted at last, "I don't think she bit me."

"She didn't –"

"No, she didn't," repeated Harry weakly, his insides clenching as he recalled what he had just seen. Knowing what was happening outside, he tried to sit up and said, "Voldemort is outside – don't go out there, whatever you do –"

There were horrified murmurs from all around the room, and Lupin gripped Harry's shoulders tightly. "Harry, lie down," he said urgently. "What do you mean?"

"Voldemort," repeated Harry, hanging onto Lupin's arm for support. His breathing was shallow and he was shaking. "He's outside, in the snow. He was possessing Nagini."

Lupin swore, letting go of Harry, and stood up abruptly. He reached the window in two strides. But as he yanked back the curtains, Harry found he knew, somehow, that the danger had gone. He could feel it; Voldemort had disappeared, Apparated back to wherever he had come from.

Already Harry felt less sick and shivery, and gave Ginny's hand a small squeeze to reassure her. He looked at Lupin's spare figure, silhouetted against the window, and said hesitantly, "Wait – he – I think he's gone now, Remus." Lupin looked over at him, a crease in his forehead, and closed the hangings again with a final wary glance outside.

"You're still allowing him access to your mind," he said quietly. It was not a question, and Harry could not meet Lupin's eyes. But then –

"Oh my goodness, Arthur just told me what's happened!" cried a terrified voice, and Mrs Weasley appeared in the room, wild-eyed. "Oh, Harry!" she shrieked, pushing Lupin and Ginny unceremoniously out of the way and kneeling down. "Remus, he's been bitten, just like Arthur was!"

"I – I don't think so, Mrs Weasley," said Harry quickly. "I'm not bleeding, but...ouch" He winced as he pulled his pyjama top open and his skin flared in pain again. Mrs Weasley uttered a soft, shocked cry.

"Oh my," said Hermione, drawing sharply back and suddenly sounding breathless. "Harry!"

Harry was staring down at his open pyjama top in blank amazement. He had been wearing the locket Horcrux around his neck, and it was certainly more badly injured than he was. It was beyond repair: horribly twisted, melted and cracked. Shards of metal were pressed into Harry's skin, which was bruised and burnt, though as he had known the fangs had not penetrated his skin. The gold remains were stained with blood, but, as Harry realised as he tentatively fingered the strangely-hot shards, it was not his own. The dark blood had come from inside the ruined locket, which was also dripping with whitish venom.

"Nagini bit it when Voldemort meant her to get me," said Harry wonderingly. "She destroyed it, and herself."

Before anyone could comment, there was a shout from the far side of the room and Bill cried in a strangled sort of voice, "Ron! Oh, heck – Mum, get over here, he's hurt!"

With a sharp shock of dismay and remembrance, Harry realised that Ron had been lying unconscious and unnoticed on the other side of the room, where he had been flung by the thrashing snake. Blood was still seeping from his shoulder. Mrs Weasley gave another scream as she saw him and fairly flew to his side, Harry forgotten. Ginny, too, cried out, and Hermione looked horrified.

"I didn't know he was bitten!" she shrieked, throwing herself down beside Mrs Weasley. She pulled out her wand and began hitting Ron desperately on the face with it. "_Ennervate! _OhRon, wake up!"

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll sort him out," said Lupin quickly, hurrying over to examine Ron's wound.

Hermione bit her lip very hard as Lupin carefully stemmed the flow of blood with a huge wad of cotton wool he conjured from thin air. Mrs Weasley, white-faced, vanished the crimson stains from her son's face and clothes with a shaky-sounding "_Evanesco._" Then she began passing her wand to and fro over the skin, so that it began to knit slowly.

"There," said Lupin, as to Harry's great relief Ron eventually groaned and opened his eyes. Hermione threw herself on him and hugged him.

"Ron, you're so brave!"

Lupin watched her with a slightly sad smile.

"He's lost quite a bit of blood," he said, turning away, "but the bite wasn't too deep, so I think we can heal it here. Do you think you'll need to go to St. Mungo's, Harry?"

"I'd rather not," said Harry hurriedly. "Not again. I'm just a bit – er – burnt. You can heal burns, can't you, Mrs Weasley?"

"Yes," she said tremulously, getting up from Ron's side. "Oh, I wish you three wouldn't –"

"Did someone mention hospital?" interrupted Fred's voice. The twins had just come into the room. "I swear we always spend this day of the year in St Mungo's."

"Yeah, Happy Christmas," added George. "Fighting snakes now, Harry, are we? Voldemort not enough for your gallant heroism?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry as casually as he could. He leant against the bed and started prising the shattered locket from his burnt and tender skin. Deep down, underneath the shock, he began to feel a huge relief. The locket and the snake both gone, in one fell swoop! "I hadn't had enough excitement for a while, you see," he told George, and threw the remains of the locket – which felt strangely lighter now – on the floorboards next to Nagini's body.

"Whoa, is Ron all right?" asked Fred, who had just seen his blood-covered brother and was looking at him with concern.

"Yeah," Ron told Fred hoarsely, examining his bitten shoulder. "Never better."

"Right, well, I think we'd better have an emergency Order meeting as soon as I've sorted out Ron and Harry here!" said Mrs Weasley, suddenly businesslike. "I want to know exactly how this snake got in here, and what's going on. Everyone in the kitchen in fifteen minutes!"

"Right you are," growled Moody, and pushed Fred and George before him out of the room. "Let's give Harry and Ron some breathing space. Want me to help, Molly?"

"Remus can, he's good at Healing," said Mrs Weasley. "Go on, everyone get out and maybe do something useful, like finding out where Nagini got in!"

She looked so fierce with her uncombed hair straggling about her face that the room cleared remarkably quickly. When Dedalus Diggle and Mundungus Fletcher had closed the door behind them, Mrs Weasley picked up her wand again.

"Ron, I know your bite is nothing as bad as Arthur's, thank goodness, but his took a long time to heal. I'll have to try to draw out some of the poison. Remus, can you see to Harry? Harry, dear, do lie down..."

Obedient, Harry lay.

"We'll need to get any slivers of metal left in your skin out before we try healing the burn," said Lupin briskly. "It won't take a second. And now you see, here's a chance to use the first spell I ever taught your class."

"Which one...?"

"_Waddiwasi!_"

Harry yelped as the remaining shards of metal zoomed out of his skin like golden bullets. They whizzed past Lupin and shot into the wall.

"That one," Lupin told him.

"Ouch," said Harry, ruefully looking down at his now even more ripped-looking flesh.

"Best way, I'm afraid, Harry."

Ten minutes later, Harry and Ron walked slowly and carefully to the kitchen. The rest of the Order were gathered there. Nagini's body had been brought downstairs and lay stretched out along the kitchen floor, jaws still open and slightly bloodied. Everyone was being careful not to tread on it.

"Here come the invalids," grinned George when they entered. He pulled out two chairs for them and Harry and Ron gladly dropped into them. Ron's shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged, but he was still looking rather shaken.

"Harry, I'm going to ask you to tell us what just happened in as much detail as you can," said Mrs Weasley gently. "I hate to do this to you when you should be resting, but it's best if we know as soon as possible..."

"That's okay," Harry told her. He felt tired and weak still, but Lupin's Healing charms had soothed his burns and he sat up a little straighter. "Well, I woke up and Nagini was in the room," he said quietly. "I knew she was coming because – because Voldemort was possessing her and at that time I – er – well, I was in Voldemort's mind and saw it all coming."

At this, all the members of the Order of the Phoenix – especially Lupin – looked very grave.

"Not good, my boy, not good; remember what happened before!" squeaked Dedalus Diggle, and Kingsley nodded slowly in agreement.

"You want to be careful, Harry," he said in his deep voice. "Don't let him get control over your mind."

"I know," said Harry, nettled. "I didn't mean it to happen again. Anyway," he continued quickly, "I suppose Nagini could get in because the Fidelius Charm doesn't cover animals?"

"Yes, maybe," said Mrs Weasley, looking anxious and harassed. "And this shack isn't Unplottable or concealed like Grimmauld Place was, even with the Fidelius. Oh, I don't like this; what if You-Know-Who comes back tonight inside another creature? We'll have to do something about it before it's too late. Kingsley, you don't suppose you could run up to the school and see Filius? Now?"

When Kingsley had gone, Harry continued.

"I suppose you all realised that the locket was a Horcrux," he said, and several people nodded. "Er – keep that quiet, if you can, I don't want the _Daily Prophet_ hearing," Harry added hastily, and only went on when they nodded again. "The snake, Nagini, was also a Horcrux. I think that's why the Stunners didn't work on her. Horcruxes can only be destroyed by powerful curses or, well, substances like her venom."

"I see," spoke up Mr Weasley. "So those are two Horcruxes gone, Harry? Well, that's marvellous!"

"Shame to waste that nice bit of gold, though, 'Arry, eh?" muttered Mundungus Fletcher from the corner. Harry ignored him.

"Yes, that's two gone tonight. Now there's only one Horcrux left," he said very quietly, as though the walls could be listening in. "Dumbledore told me what it is – a golden cup – and also where he thinks it might be."

He exchanged a quick glance with Ron, who nodded encouragingly.

"Where is it, Harry?" asked Lupin.

Harry paused. "We think it's in Hogwarts," he said at last.

There was a general outcry, and a sharing of startled looks.

"Hogwarts!" said Diggle squeakily. "Ridiculous! In a school!"

Mr Weasley rubbed his bald patch, frowning. "Where any student could stumble across it – are yousure, Harry?"

"Wait," said Harry impatiently. "No, I'm not sure, but I'm going up there tomorrow to check. You don't have to come, but so you know, we'll be going down to the Chamber of Secrets."

"The Chamber of Secrets!" cried Mrs Weasley. "Oh, not that – that horrible place – well, why don't we just all go down there today, a real Christmas treat, seeing as the day's started off so well anyway!" She looked close to tears as her husband patted her gently on the back. "Sorry," she sniffed at last. "I'm letting everything get to me. I just hate that you have to do all this, Harry!"

"I know," said Harry awkwardly. "But this is good. If the Horcrux is down there, it'll be the last one."

Mrs Weasley looked slightly happier. "We'll all go," she said. "Tomorrow, we'll stand guard and do whatever we can to help," she said.

"I'd rather you didn't –" began Harry, but Hermione elbowed him.

"Don't start, Harry," she warned.

"I'll help you destroy it if you find it," said Bill, leaning on the scratched kitchen table. "I've found out just how to do it last night, though you didn't need it for the locket in the end."

"Amazing, Bill, you're definitely coming with us then," said Ron hurriedly, before Harry could object.

"Settled," yawned Bill, getting up from the table and stretching his arms. "So what's happening now, are we going back to bed or –?"

"We're going to make this place safe before we do anything else!" squeaked an unexpected voice, and Professor Flitwick entered the kitchen followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Filius," said Mrs Weasley, looking immensely relieved. "You know what happened tonight?"

"Kingsley told me everything," said Flickwick gravely, looking at Harry and Ron through his tiny spectacles. "Yes, yes, the Fidelius Charm would do nothing to prevent _animals_ entering, of course – a terrible mistake! Terrible, quite terrible..."

"But there is a way to stop it happening again?" asked Hermione anxiously.

"Oh yes, well, a recasting of the Charm, slightly adapted to accommodate non-human beings, should do it," said Flitwick briskly in his squeaky voice, and took out his wand. "But I think we should make the Shack Unplottable as an extra precaution. Now –"

Harry jumped as a hand suddenly shook him by the shoulder. Mrs Weasley was standing behind him and Ron.

"You can go to bed now, you two," said Mrs Weasley softly as Professor Flitwick began giving orders to the people in the room.

"But I want to see –" began Harry, but was cut off by a stern look that said quite clearly, "Don't argue."

"You need rest!" said Mrs Weasley. "You've just been attacked by a twelve-foot-long snake, for goodness' sake, and it's the middle of the night anyway. I'll come up with you. And Hermione, could you help Ron to his room?"

"I can walk," said Ron indignantly, as Hermione stood up. "I haven't had my foot eaten off or anything, you know."

Harry felt annoyed that he had to miss the recasting of the Fidelius Charm, but when Mrs Weasley had finished bullying them all – Hermione and Ginny included – back into bed, Harry realised just how tired he was. His body still ached from Nagini's crushing grip, and the bed felt luxuriously soft and warm after shivering in the cold kitchen for the last half an hour. His body and chest was still sore, but his muscles slowly relaxed and he could feel himself slipping comfortably into sleep.

"Well, happy Christmas, everyone," yawned Ginny's voice from across the room.

"Yeah, you too, Ginny..." mumbled Harry, and fell asleep to the sound of Ron's snoring.

* * *

**Next chapter should be up sooner than usual...for once! Please review!!**


	26. Bleak Midwinter

Disclaimer: All characters, etc, belong to J. K. Rowling.  
**Thanks to Mamacita-San for the betaing!**

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes again, winter sunlight was streaming into the room. Dust particles glittered as they spun and drifted through the air, and even the cobwebs on the ceiling were threads of gleaming gold. Harry put on his glasses and squinted around him. 

"What time is it?" he said, rather croakily, to no one in particular. Then he realised that only Ron's bed was occupied. Even Hedwig's cage was empty – she had probably gone hunting after all.

"Huh?" Ron emerged from under his bedcovers, looking groggy and tired.

"It's nearly one o' clock!" said Harry, grabbing his watch from his bedside table. "Why didn't they wake us up?"

Ron yawned. "I dunno, but I feel like a sack of Hippogriff dung," he complained. "Damn snake." He rubbed his bruised and swollen shoulder and winced.

Harry began to swing himself out of bed, then gave a yelp of pain. His muscles were stiff and aching; he nearly lost control, and only stopped himself from falling rather inelegantly on the floor by twisting clumsily and clinging to the bedpost.

"What are you trying to do, Veela dance?" asked Ron, sniggering.

"I – am – so – sore," Harry grumbled, straightening up and stretching gingerly.

"Well, you did get squeezed half to death by a giant snake last night," said Ron, also getting out of bed and pulling a face. "I'm not going to be able to lift my arm for days," he moaned, testing it.

"Oh, you're awake!" a voice said brightly, and Hermione came into the room. "Happy Christmas," she added, as they both looked at her blankly.

"What's left of it," said Harry. "How come you let us sleep so long?"

"Mum gave orders," said Ginny as she followed Hermione in. "She said you had to rest. So when do you plan on opening those?" She pointed to a large pile of brightly-wrapped objects at the end of Harry's bed.

"What?" said Harry. "Oh – presents, cool, I forgot! Er – one minute."

He picked up his wand and walked, with some difficulty, into the corridor.

"What are you...?"

"Hang on!" said Harry. "I need to get something."

He pointed his wand at the attic trapdoor in the ceiling, and said, "_Alohomora!_"

The trapdoor fell open with a bang and a flurry of dust. Then there was silence.

"Come on," hissed Harry. "You can come out now!" There was a rustle of feathers and a sleek owl head poked out of the trapdoor. Harry pointed over his shoulder to the bedroom. The owl opened and shut her beak soundlessly, then spread her wings.

"Who's he talking to?" said Ginny's voice from in the bedroom, then she shrieked as the owl swooped past Harry and straight to her. It landed on top of Ginny's head, and settled itself comfortably in her red hair.

"Er – I thought you might like another pet, after Ron trod on your pygmy puff and all," said Harry, grinning as Ginny, looking shocked, reached up and felt the feathers of the owl sitting on her head.

"Harry, this is amazing!" she exclaimed at last. "I've always wanted my own owl – if I can just..." She struggled to lift the owl out of her hair, but it dug its claws in and opened and shut its beak again, with a very stubborn look on its little feathered face.

"She's found a nest," giggled Hermione. "Here –" She untangled the owl's claws from Ginny's hair and gently but firmly lifted it off.

"She's beautiful," said Ginny, taking the owl in her hands and stroking it. "Harry, thanks so much, seriously."

She gave him an ecstatic one-armed hug, taking care not to squash the owl, which sat on her other wrist looking longingly upwards.

"Cool, Hermione!" said Ron, who had just begun opening his presents. He lifted up what Harry recognised as one of Fred and George's creations: a Shield Cloak.

"Ha, try and get me now – I'm jinx-proof!" he grinned, swinging the Cloak over his shoulders. "Try a Jelly-Legs!"

Harry immediately pointed his wand at Ron's unprotected head.

"_Liquidus Artus!_"

Ron yelled in pain as the jinx hit him smack in the face, and began wobbling uncontrollably round the room. Hermione and Ginny fell about laughing.

"Cheat!" Ron grumbled, holding onto Hermione's shoulder and just managing to stay still long enough to perform the counter-jinx on himself. "I'm supposed to be an invalid, you know."

"Whatever," said Ginny. "Hey – ah, no –"

The owl had clambered up her arm and hopped back onto her head, where it settled contently into her hair.

"I know what I'm calling you," Ginny said, as she shook her head gently, trying to dislodge her pet. "Muriel. After our aunt – she's just as stubborn. Gets an idea into her head and it sticks forever."

"Too right," said Ron. "I've still got the scars on my – well, never mind where – from when I was four and she decided I'd be good at Knarl-hunting." He rubbed his backside ruefully.

"She's a lot quieter than Auntie, though," said Ginny, poking her pet in an attempt to get it down.

"Oh, I forgot," said Harry, pointing his wand at Muriel the owl. "_Sonorus!_"

Muriel hooted loudly, looking pleased.

"She had a Silencing Charm on her in the attic," Harry explained. "Want some help?" He prised the young owl from her perch, ignoring her loud squawks of protest.

"What's all this screeching up here? You'll wake the boys – oh, you're already up." Mrs Weasley poked her head round the door, looking hassled. "How do you feel?" She asked the question in an extremely preoccupied way.

"Fine," said Ron quickly.

"All right," said Harry. He didn't want to be made to rest any more than he already had. And he wasn't completely lying – he felt fine so long as he didn't have to move.

"Are you okay, Mum?" asked Ginny. Her mother was pale and her eyes looked suspiciously red.

"I – yes – oh, I don't know what I'm saying...look, there's a Christmas dinner on the table if you'd like to come down when you're ready." And she disappeared.

"Something's happened," said Ginny anxiously.

"Let's go down," said Hermione.

"I'd better let Muriel out first, if she's been in the attic for a while," said Ginny. She opened the window and said to the young owl, "Go on, find Pig and Hedwig and go hunting – good girl." Muriel took off in a flurry of feathers, and Ginny snapped the window shut.

The aroma of slightly-singed turkey was wafting up the stairs as they emerged from the bedroom. "Mum's never burned a turkey before," said Ron, in a deeply significant way, as they made their way downstairs.

"Maybe it's –" began Ginny, then hesitated.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Mum was always upset when Percy wasn't here for Christmas," said Ginny at last, very quietly, while Ron stumped down the stairs in front of them without comment. "This is the first Christmas we've had since – you know..."

Harry was at a bit of a loss as to what he should say. Since the funeral – undertaken while he had been in St. Mungo's – he had rarely heard anyone allude to Percy's death. They had simply carried on, not forgetting him, but silently adding his name to the growing list of those to be avenged.

"Maybe," he said gently. "Or perhaps she's just upset that Tonks is ill in hospital over Christmas."

However, they were both proved wrong. When they got to the kitchen, it was to find the most of the Weasley family (including Charlie, who had come with Flavia to visit) and a few members of the Order of the Phoenix grouped round the table. Mrs Weasley was carrying a jug of gravy over to them rather distractedly; she was still looking flustered and miserable. Harry sat down just as she dumped the jug on the table with unnecessary force, and drew back quickly as hot gravy sloshed over the side.

Mrs Weasley said nothing, just tightened her lips and flicked her wand so that the gravy returned to the jug.

"Mum, is everything okay?" asked Ginny again.

"Eat your dinner," Mrs Weasley snapped.

"Are you –"

"There is _nothing_ wrong, Ginny, it's Christmas, isn't it? So let's celebrate!" Mrs Weasley thrust a cracker at her husband, who shook his head.

"Molly, don't, it's not as bad as all that."

"Is it because of Tonks?" asked Harry quietly, not quite daring to mention Percy's name.

Mrs Weasley burst into tears. Horrified, Harry jumped up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –" he started, then walked round the table and gave her an awkward hug. The Weasley children were all looking alarmed, and Ron and Ginny rose, too. Mr Weasley just sighed tiredly.

"Sorry," Harry said again. "I –"

"Oh, don't, Harry dear!" sobbed Mrs Weasley, clinging painfully round Harry's neck. "It's not your fault – b-but we just got the news this m-morning and I – I wish it weren't Christmas at all!"

Harry felt as though a stone had dropped right through his insides, and from the scared looks on Hermione and Ron's faces he knew they were thinking along the same lines. "Oh no – is Tonks – is she –?" he couldn't help blurting out.

From across the table, Mr Weasley shook his head at him. "Tonks is no different, Harry, don't worry."

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley tearfully, as Harry gingerly untangled himself from her clasp. "And Remus will insist on going to visit her. He goes in disguise, but I keep telling him it's not safe."

"He knows that," said Fred. "You can't blame him."

"Of course I don't blame him, I just don't want him getting picked up by the Ministry," said Mrs Weasley. "If he does, they'll make sure he doesn't escape again. It's just one more thing to worry about!" She poked a spoon rather violently into a bowl, and peas rolled all over the table.

"Oh, for goodness' sake –"

"Mum, try to relax," said Charlie, waving his wand so that the scattered peas vanished. "It's Christmas."

"Will you all stop saying that?" shouted Mrs Weasley, and everybody jumped. "Oh, I've had enough – but enjoy your Christmas dinner, do! And _don't_ tell me there's a war on!"

She pushed her chair back, pulled her arm from her husband's warning grasp, and hurried from the room with tears still in her eyes. There was a short, stunned silence.

"Dad, tell us what's up," Ron said desperately.

"Yeah, what the heck is going on?" added Fred, frowning.

Mr Weasley sighed. "I just wanted to keep it from you today so you could have a good Christmas, but I suppose it was too much for Molly..."

"So?" prompted George.

Mr Weasley looked round the table at Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones, who both shrugged, looking moody.

"Tell them," said Hestia.

"Very well," said Mr Weasley tiredly. "All of you who don't know – I've lost my job at the Ministry."

"What?" exclaimed Ron, Harry and the twins together, while Hermione and Ginny exchanged shocked glances. Bill and Charlie were wearing rueful but unsurprised expressions.

"So have Tonks, Kingsley, Hestia, and Sturgis Podmore," added Mr Weasley matter-of-factly. Kingsley and Hestia nodded silently. "Well, it was bound to happen at some point..."

"No it wasn't!" exclaimed George indignantly. "Why do you say that?"

"We've been under suspicion for ages, George, and I think after we – er – helped Remus out of Azkaban and knocked Scrimgeour unconscious, they rather wanted us out."

"But they can't know it was you who –"

"No, but they don't wait for proof, Fred, and we were all fired on false charges anyway! I think they've known for years that we were in secret league with Dumbledore, and they can tell from all the strange things that've been happening to us who we are."

Fred swore loudly.

"It's not that bad," said Hestia in her soft voice. "It's not good that we've lost our best spies in the Ministry, but it does mean we can devote all our time to the Order – and helping you, Harry, if you need us."

"I don't want to get you all involved with what I'm doing," muttered Harry. "I mean it. I'll ask you if I need anything."

A faint whooshing sound came from the other room. They all turned; the noise indicated the arrival of someone through the Floo. Moments later, Remus Lupin entered the kitchen, looking grim.

"I'm always the bringer of bad tidings," he said, taking off his travelling cloak and throwing it onto a coat-peg. "St Mungo's has just been attacked."

Kingsley Shacklebolt swore under his breath, and stood. "How bad?"

"Not great; half of it is destroyed and bodies everywhere – Healers, and the patients –"

"Not Tonks?" said Mr Weasley sharply, also rising.

"No, thank heaven, she was in the part that wasn't touched."

A sigh went round the room, and Lupin nodded unsmilingly. "Yes, she's safe and sound, about the only good thing in this whole business. They've moved her and all the survivors temporarily to the Ministry, until they sort out the hospital. It's a mess, the entire situation is a mess..."

"How many killed?" asked Kingsley.

"Too many," replied Lupin, his mouth setting. "Over fifty, at an estimate."

Ron looked as sickened as Harry felt, and everyone in the room was shared glances of dismay. There had been killings – plenty of them – over the past two years, but this was the largest massacre yet in the wizarding world.

"Cowards," growled Hestia. "Attacking a hospital, on Christmas Day – how low will they sink?"

"How did they do it?" queried Bill, a crease in his forehead. "I thought St. Mungo's was really heavily protected."

"From Dark magic and Death Eaters, yes," said Lupin. "Not from physical attack – not from giants. Three of them, smashing the place in with boulders and I don't know what else...egged on by Death Eaters, naturally. They got away before the Aurors arrived – everyone's running around trying to modify all the Muggle memories, but it's going to be a difficult one."

"I feel like I should help," said Kingsley. "But technically I'm not an Auror any more, so I don't know if I'll be welcome..."

"Go, if you want," said Lupin. "They'll be glad of anybody's aid. They've called in Aurors from their posts all over the country to sort this out. I was helping until the Polyjuice began to wear off, then I had to get out before anyone realised who I was."

Kingsley got up to leave. Everyone else stood up too.

Harry said, "Can we help?" gesturing at himself, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

Mr Weasley looked startled. "Harry, you can't go hanging around the streets of London for hours, You-Know-Who would be on you in a flash. Hasn't experience taught you anything?"

Harry felt a jab of annoyance. "If I went disguised, like Remus –"

"Don't risk it, Harry, you're too valuable," said Mr Weasley impatiently. "We don't need you getting hurt – leave this to us. Are you going back, Remus?"

Lupin shook his head. "I've run out of Polyjuice," he said. "I'll have to get some more before I can go out again. Good luck."

Kingsley and Hestia had already left. Mr Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Flavia, and the twins hurried through the kitchen door in the direction of the fireplace. Lupin, alone with the four of them now, silently watched them leave.

Harry exhaled angrily. "I hate this," he said irritably. "We can't go anywhere, do anything except look for these damned Horcruxes. We just have to lurk inside headquarters and only pop out every now and then in disguise or under guard, to do what we have to – God, it's frustrating sometimes."

"I know," said Ron pacifyingly. "I feel the same. Are you all right, Remus?" he added. Harry looked over. Lupin was looking sombre and troubled, and hadn't withdrawn his gaze from the open doorway.

He didn't speak for a few moments. Then he said moodily, "I just lied to them."

"What?" said Harry.

"I haven't run out of Polyjuice Potion," said Lupin. "I just couldn't face going back there." He threw himself into a chair.

"What's happened, Remus?" said Hermione gently. Lupin looked up at her, eyes hard.

"I met my old friend Sullius Rune just now," he said grimly. "The one who betrayed the whereabouts of Grimmauld Place to Voldemort after he'd helped capture Minerva. He was with the Death Eaters encouraging the giants to smash up the hospital – and I –" He stopped. "I made such a terrible mistake bringing Sullius to Grimmauld Place," he said at last, swallowing. "If I hadn't done that, Tonks wouldn't have been hurt, and perhaps even Minerva wouldn't – but I suppose I've made reparations now."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry quietly.

"I killed Sullius as he ran from the scene with the other Death Eaters," said Lupin softly. "I murdered him." He laughed; a bitter, crazy laugh. "I've never killed before. In the last war and this one I've always Stunned or immobilised my opponents – and I've never attacked a man, like a coward, from behind."

Harry was silent. At last he said, "Then why did you do it?"

Lupin looked back at him. "Because I was angry," he said flatly. "Because I let my hatred and guilt grow into something worse. Perhaps just because I let the werewolf in me take over."

Hermione was shaking her head. "No, you didn't," she said firmly. "Sullius tricked you, and betrayed you and everything closest to you. We don't blame you, Remus, anyone would want revenge."

"Yeah, you stopped a bad man from doing worse," added Ginny. "He could have helped kill more innocent people if he'd survived."

Lupin did not meet their eyes.

"I just feel – dirty," he said. "Four years ago, Harry, you stopped me and Sirius from becoming what you thought James wouldn't have liked us to be: killers. And you were quite right, he wouldn't. Yet, in spite of your and my best efforts, here I am with blood on my hands."

"It's a war," said Ron. "It happens. Don't beat yourself up about it."

There was silence in the kitchen for a while. _What a Christmas_, thought Harry. _What a day_. He was still angry that he had been made to stay safe in the Shack while the rest of the Order went to help at St. Mungo's. Not that he'd have been much use to them in the state he was in after Nagini's attack – it was more the fact that even had he been well he still would have had to stay.

"I feel like just going to London to help anyway," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. Hermione shot him a startled glance. "I'm sick of being cooped up all the time, either in Grimmauld, or here, or in hospital!"

"We're not going to London, Harry," said Ron. "I know how you feel, but that would just be stupid."

Harry ground his teeth. "I know," he said. "It's just that I'm feeling useless right now."

Lupin was staring absently into space, but he turned his head slightly at this and said, simply, "Go and fight."

"What?" said Harry.

"Fight each other," said Lupin. "Duel. Practise your skills. It'll take your mind off things...it always worked with me and James and Sirius when we were your age."

"Sounds good, but I can't move very fast right now," said Harry. "I'm bruised after last night."

"And I can't lift my right arm," added Ron.

"Do my ears deceive me?" said Lupin, raising an eyebrow. "Surely James' son and his best friend aren't backing out of a challenge?"

"What challenge?"

"I'm in a bad mood right now, Harry. I need therapy too," Lupin said, with a forced smile. "Come on, get upstairs and I'll give you all a fight."

"Are you serious? We're injured, you'll hammer us," said Harry. "But yeah, why not?"

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone got up, leaving their half-eaten and by now nearly cold Christmas dinners to congeal on their plates, and they all progressed slowly upstairs. When they reached the landing, Harry noticed Ginny looking to the far end, to Snape's closed door. He gave her a quizzical look and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head silently.

Once they were in the bedroom and the door was shut behind them, she said to Harry, "I was just thinking that Snape hasn't come out of his room all day."

"He never did like Christmas," Lupin told them, rolling up his sleeves. "He's hating being trapped in here as much as you are, Harry, and it's certainly made him – er – less sociable."

"That implies he was once sociable," said Harry, also shaking back his sleeves and taking hold of his wand. "So, what are we doing – duelling?"

"No," said Lupin. "We'll have two sides, 'Death Eaters' and Order members, each side try to knock the other out. Duelling can be a luxury in battle; often if you're a target you'll get two or three on one."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry with feeling, remembering the fight in Hogsmeade.

"Now, let me see," said Lupin. "Voldemort's side is more and far stronger than ours, so if you, Harry, go with Ron, against me, Hermione and Ginny –"

"What?" interrupted Ron, alarmed. "That's totally unequal! We're the injured ones!"

"I know," said Lupin, raising his wand. "You're the weaker side, which is how it'll be against Voldemort. See how long you can stand against us Death Eaters; it might be longer than you think. Nothing too dangerous, though, remember this is just a practice."

"Right," said Harry, tightening his hold on his wand.

"Ready?" said Lupin, and cried, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Harry deftly shielded himself from the Disarming Charm and flicked his own wand, as the incantation _Levicorpus! _sprang into his mind.

Only Ginny flew into the air by her ankle – it seemed Lupin and Hermione had seen his intention and blocked it. And suddenly there were flashes of light everywhere; falling bodies; cries of pain and triumph; tangles of arms and legs, and the smell of singed clothing.

"Very good, keep going!" came Lupin's voice through a haze of smoke, and Harry, who had just thrown himself to the floor to avoid a Stunner, shot a jinx in its direction. He was feeling exhilarated, alive as he had not felt for a long time. His aches and stiffness seemed to have disappeared as he fought, the adrenaline pumping through his body and making the blood sing in his veins.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he shouted, and the huge white stag blossomed from the tip of his wand. He sent it in Hermione's direction, and heard a shriek as it engulfed her.

Ginny's voice yelled, "_Incarcerous!_" and ropes soared towards Harry through the haze of magical smoke. He Banished them easily, and they zoomed away again.

Lupin instructed her, "Jab your wand when you do that one, Ginny, it's better..."

Harry was too quick on the uptake. Before Ginny could open her mouth, he jabbed his wand and said hurriedly, "_Incarcerous!_" Ropes shot fast as bullets from the wand-tip, uncoiling rapidly like fluid snakes, and flung themselves round Ginny's body so that she toppled to the floor.

"Cheers, Remus!" yelled Harry, and Lupin laughed. He seemed in a much better mood.

"Okay, let's wrap it up there," he said loudly, and the noise died down. "Who's still standing?"

The smoke from the various spells vanished as Lupin waved his wand, and Harry looked around. He was still on his feet, as was Lupin. Ron was on the floor looking dazed, and Hermione was fighting with some fading silver shreds which seemed to be stopping her from getting up – the remains of Harry's Patronus. Ginny's bonds loosened as she wordlessly severed them with magic, and she sat up, brushing the cut ropes from her arms.

"I needed that," said Lupin. "Though I still feel restless. So we didn't get each other down, then, Harry?"

"I swear you're untouchable," said Harry wryly. "I aimed loads of stuff at you but I don't think I got you once."

"No, because I could always see what was coming," said Lupin. "Harry, you need to work on your Occlumency. I know you don't like it –"

"I'm rubbish at it!"

"—but it's essential," said Lupin firmly. "I'm no skilled Legilimens – the fact that Sullius fooled me into believing he was trustworthy proves that – but it was easy for me to see what you were planning. Think how effortlessly Voldemort will read your thoughts when you next meet him if you don't learn."

"Can't you teach me?" asked Harry desperately. "I can't do it by myself, and I'm not asking Snape again."

Lupin paused. "We'll see," he said finally. "I'm not sure how good a teacher I will be in that area. Anyway, well done. You're as good a fighter as James was – better, even. You're quick on your feet. Hermione –"

"I'm not as good as Harry," she admitted.

"No, I was watching you," said Lupin. "And you're very good, but you just need to remember that a curse can be avoided just as easily by ducking as by Shielding – and dodging is often more effective. Keep your body moving, it makes it harder for your attacker to aim at you."

Hermione nodded.

"Ron, Ginny – you both need to react faster, don't wait for the jinx to hit you before you try to block it. And, like Harry, you need to learn Occlumency. You can do it already, Hermione?" he asked, turning back to her. "I noticed you seemed to be anticipating a lot of Ron and Harry's spells."

"Yes," she said. "I've been trying to teach myself, Harry gave me a book for Christmas which shows you how to do it."

"Did I?" said Harry blankly.

"You gave me the money to buy myself a present, remember?" said Hermione. "Anyway," she added, looking slightly embarrassed, "I peeked into it a few times before today."

"You've done pretty well," said Lupin, looking impressed. Turning back to Harry, he added suddenly, "Talking of books, Harry, what is that one? It looks suspiciously Slytherin-coloured, and I'm intrigued." He pointed to Harry's bedside table, where the small book _Possessed _lay. Its emerald-green covers were very conspicuous as it gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the window, and the silver-embossed title flashed as Harry leaned over and picked it up.

"I got it from the library at Grimmauld Place," he said reluctantly. "I'm not sure why – it looked interesting, I suppose."

"'Possessed'?" said Lupin, frowning. "Does that mean what I think? You're researching soul-possession?"

"Just having a flick through," said Harry uneasily. He didn't like the way Lupin was looking at him.

"That's one of the Darkest of arts, Harry!" his ex-teacher exclaimed, while the others watched with interest. "Taking over someone else's soul, it's worse than the Imperius Curse."

"I haven't tried it, I was just looking," said Harry, annoyed. "Thought it could be useful. I only really know the incantation, though – _Agonus Anima – _but that's because I heard Voldemort use it last night when he possessed Nagini."

"Hmm," said Lupin sceptically. "I'd advise you to steer clear of that area, Harry. I don't like you reading into something so dangerous – though you're an adult now, so I can't make you do anything, of course."

But he looked as though he wished he could. Harry, thinking that Lupin was overreacting, made no reply; he didn't feel like promising anything. He looked down at the book, open in his hands, and recognised the page – he had been reading it a couple of nights ago.

_The Mind is a Pathway to the Soul. Therefore, open your Mind to the Person's whom you seek to possess, and then speak the Incantation _Agonus Anima_...when Control is yours, you will See through the other's Eyes...you will enter a Void; there you will sense the Soul. Seek it; find it; envelop it..._

"Harry, Hedwig's outside," said Ron, causing Harry to tear his eyes away from the page. "Oh, and Muriel is too."

"Muriel?" said Lupin distractedly, still eyeing _Possessed_ as Harry threw it onto his bed. "Your Aunt Muriel?" He looked up, suddenly on the alert. "What's she doing outside?"

"No, no, Muriel's my new owl!" said Ginny brightly, opening the window. The two birds were perched on the windowsill, already looking very companionable. "Harry got her for me."

"Hello, Hedwig," said Harry as his snowy owl soared in. But Hedwig flew straight to her cage, refusing to look at him. Harry felt suddenly guilty; he realised he had been rather neglecting his faithful pet over the last few weeks. In fact, he'd not talked to her once since she escaped the collapsing Grimmauld Place. No wonder she was angry with him. He went quickly to her cage, but she merely gave him an accusatory look through her large amber eyes and shuffled round on her perch so that she faced away from him.

"C'mon, Hedwig, I'm sorry – you know I didn't mean it," he said, aware of the others watching him. Hedwig hunched her back and ignored him. Harry supposed she would take a while to forgive him, and stroked her gently, though she pretended not to notice. Then he caught sight of a large envelope lying at the bottom of her cage.

"Hey, what's this?" said Harry, tweaking it out. The letter was dirty and crumpled, and bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic.

"Oh, man, I forgot about that," said Ron suddenly, clapping his hand to his mouth. "An owl brought it weeks ago – when we were still at Grimmauld – and you weren't there so Hedwig took care of it. But she never got a change to give it to you."

"Oh..." said Harry, remembering. "So that's why she was trying to get my attention the day the Death Eaters came. No wonder she finally gave up."

He looked at Hedwig, who continued to pretend he was not there.

"Sorry, Hedwig," he said again. "I'm opening it now, see?"

He slit the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside. It was dated nearly three weeks previously – the day, in fact, that they had fought the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade – and it was from the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry read it aloud:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We have received information from Rufus Scrimgeour (Minister for Magic; Order of Merlin, First Class), who in turn received it from Dolores Umbridge (Senior Undersecretary and Special Assistant to the Minister), that you entertain hopes of taking up a career as an Auror. We are well aware that you have not gained and will not be undertaking the necessary qualifications required in normal circumstances to train as an Auror, but owing to your present situation we have decided to offer you full training nonetheless. We believe that the skills we teach could be of incalculable value in your pursuit of He Who Must Not Be Named. If you are in agreement, come to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Head Auror Office, at three o' clock, December 1__st,__ to begin training. We extend the same offer to the three very estimable companions assisting you in your task._

_Best wishes,_

_Gawain Robards _

_(Head Auror; Order of Merlin, Second Class)_

"This might have been useful three weeks ago," said Harry dryly, folding up the letter and stuffing it back into its envelope. "Looks like I just threw away my chance of becoming an Auror, too."

"Not necessarily," said Lupin. "Just tell them you didn't find the letter, and are still interested."

"No point now," said Harry. "If we manage to find the cup in the Chamber tomorrow, we won't have time for Auror training – we're going to have to start looking for You-Know-Who."

Ron was looking rather green. Hermione put an arm round him, though she herself didn't look entirely composed. Harry glanced at them, wondering briefly about telling them to stay; but he kept his mouth shut. He knew they wouldn't listen...but still, he felt almost as uneasy about taking them with him as he did about the prospect of facing Lord Voldemort.

"Of course, you were planning on going to the Chamber of Secrets tomorrow, weren't you?" said Lupin, looking at Harry rather strangely. "Only you can open it, I hear."

"Any Parselmouth," corrected Harry. "So probably loads of people."

"No, the gift of Parseltongue is very rare," said Lupin. "Harry – no, forget it," he said, cutting himself off abruptly.

"Forget what?" said Harry and Ron together.

Lupin shook his head. "I was about to suggest something stupid, don't worry about it. Well – I was going to suggest that we don't wait for tomorrow, that we go to Hogwarts now to look for the cup, actually, but..."

"You're still restless, aren't you?" grinned Harry. "No, I don't think it's a stupid idea."

"No?" said Lupin, though Hermione gave Harry a doubtful glance. "I was just thinking that the others won't be back from London for a while – and we've done nothing else to do, to be honest."

"All right," said Harry. "I'm up for that."

"Are you sure we shouldn't wait?" asked Hermione. "We could go tomorrow, with everybody."

"There shouldn't be any need for that, should there, Harry?" asked Lupin. "All you need to do is go into the Chamber and see if the cup is there."

Harry nodded. "It might not be," he warned. "It was only Dumbledore's guess."

"Let's go, then," said Ron, in a slightly forced voice. Ron had never been keen on the idea of venturing back into the Chamber of Secrets, not since his last experience – and Ginny had not spoken since Lupin first voiced the idea.

"Brilliant," said Lupin, looking suddenly much happier. "I've always wanted to see the Chamber, you know," he told Harry. "I explored so much of Hogwarts with James and Sirius and Peter, but of course we never could get to that part. Right, I'll have to let Hagrid know we're coming so he can open the gates for us – the Entrance under the Whomping Willow has been blocked off now, of course."

So saying, he muttered something under his breath, and a flash of silver – it looked like a hare – darted from his wand and through the wall of the Shack, in the direction of the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry gathered together his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map, then the little group moved, in a straggly line, out of the room and down the stairs towards the back door.

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**I'm throwing armfuls of thanks to all my reviewers! Love you! Keep it up, hehe.**


	27. A Christmas to Remember

Disclaimer: I am but a mangy Thief who dares to pilfer J. K. Rowling's creations...

**Really sorry it took me so long to update, I've had a lot going on these last few months. But I will ****write the next chapter – the _last_ chapter! – more speedily.**

* * *

"Where are you going?" said a sudden voice behind them. Harry stopped on the bottommost step of the staircase and looked upwards to see a pyjama-clad Neville Longbottom leaning over the banister, peering down at them.

"Neville!" said Harry. "I forgot – didn't you go with – have you been up there all this time?"

"Yeah," said Neville. "I overslept a bit. Only woke up when I heard you lot duelling next door; for a second I thought Death Eaters had invaded this place, too!"

"Mum didn't wake any of us up," said Ron. "She wanted us to have our beauty sleep." He rolled his eyes, then added, "D'you fancy coming with us, Neville?"

Harry started. "Wha—"

"Come with you?" Neville beamed. "You bet I would! Hang on, I'll get my stuff…_brilliant_..." He disappeared back into his room.

Harry mouthed soundlessly at Ron, who shrugged at him.

"Oh, it's fine, Harry," said Hermione. "Let him come, we're hardly doing anything dangerous."

"Only going into the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry in exasperation. "But that's perfectly safe – why not just invite some Muggles down too for a day trip?"

"You're sounding like Mum," said Ginny. "Now that the Basilisk's gone, there's not much risk – is there, Remus?"

"I should imagine that the greatest risk will be posed by teachers and students," said Lupin. "We'll have to make sure no one knows we're there; though, as it's Christmas Day, there will certainly be fewer people to avoid. I would have to agree with Hermione, though, Harry; without the Basilisk, the Chamber is just another room, though perhaps not very inviting..."

"The Chamber?" said an alarmed voice. Neville's head reappeared over the banisters. "We're going to the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "But you don't have to—"

"No, I'm coming!" said Neville. "I'm all ready!"

He walked quickly to the top of the stairs so that his full body could be seen. Harry blinked. Neville's entire torso was covered in swaying green tendrils, which curled over his t-shirt and wound round his sleeves so that he looked rather like a chubby, mossy rock.

Harry stared. "Neville, are you – are you wearing a plant?" he said weakly.

Neville grinned.

"My great-uncle Algie sent it to me for Christmas," he told them. "It's Shield Moss, see? Repels loads of life-threatening curses and stuff, it's really amazing stuff."

"Right," said Harry. "Er – well, hopefully we won't be meeting any life-threatening curses, but nice to know you'll be fine if we do...let's go," he said quickly, elbowing Ron, who was gaping at Neville's Shield Moss with undisguised incredulity.

"Put on your Cloak, Harry," said Lupin before they reached the door. As Harry reached into his pocket, Lupin drew from his own robes a crumpled ball of fluid silvery material, and shook it out. It was an Invisibility Cloak, similar to Harry's but ragged and stained.

"Alastor lent me his spare in case I ever ran out of Polyjuice," said Lupin, lifting it up. "It's probably as old as he is – which possibly doesn't bear thinking about," he added, lips twitching, "but it'll do."

He threw it over himself, Neville, and Ginny. Ron and Hermione squeezed under Harry's Cloak, not without some difficulty and swearing.

"Keep your wands out," Lupin's voice warned them. "There are Anti-Apparition spells on the Shack, so we'll have to step outside very briefly. Try to make as little noise as possible; we don't want to draw attention to our presence – you never know who could be watching."

With these comforting words hanging over them, the six of them proceeded cautiously into the open. The cold, sharp air made Harry's skin tingle and he breathed in deeply. After being cooped up for so long, he found himself appreciating more than ever just how good it was to be outside. It was mid-afternoon, and darkness was just beginning to fall.

"Ready?" came Lupin's voice. "Aim for the Hogwarts gates…Hagrid should be there soon, if he got my message..."

With them all huddled under the Cloaks, it was not easy to co-ordinate the Apparition. There was a lot of muffled cursing and gasps of pain as toes were trodden on, but finally Harry found himself squeezing uncomfortably through the air to land at the gates of the Hogwarts grounds, Ron and Hermione at his side. The dead leaves crunched softly under their feet and their breath rose in white smoke that lingered in the icy air. Three quiet _pops_ signalled the arrival of Lupin, Ginny, and Neville, and the six of them crowded closer to the gate. Harry shivered and blew on his hands – his fingers were already going numb with cold.

Before they had stood there long, the huge form of Hagrid came tramping into view behind the gates. The boarhound Fang was at Hagrid's side, looking cold and dejected; his tail was hanging and his fur was stiff with frost. But as they got closer, the dog's ears pricked up and he gave several booming, delighted barks. Hagrid jumped visibly and raised a huge crossbow.

"Who's there?" he called out, looking into the trees; the wildly swinging crossbow pointed, to Harry's consternation, directly at his own chest. "Where are yeh? I can't see yeh but yeh'd better show yerself –"

Harry heard Lupin mutter something, and a silvery rough-haired dog blossomed from nothingness in the air before them. It raced directly towards Hagrid, pulled up short as it reached them – Fang whined and swiped at it with a great paw – then it faded mistily and disappeared. Hagrid, looking immensely relieved, lowered his crossbow.

"It is yeh, Remus." He pulled from his pocket the familiar bundle of keys. There was a grating noise as he inserted a massive key into the lock, a flash of brilliant white light and a tremor that shook the ground under their feet; then the Hogwarts gates creaked open. Lupin nudged them all forward urgently, and as soon as they were through he pushed the gates closed with a bang. Then he drew the others back behind a tangle of brambles so that the castle was hidden from their sight.

"After all these years knowin' yeh, Harry," said Hagrid, beaming at the place where he thought they were standing, which was about six feet off the mark, "I'm still not used to these Invisibility Cloaks. Never know if it's friend or foe beneath 'em."

"Sorry about that, Hagrid," said Lupin, as they pulled off the Invisibility Cloaks. "But we can't reveal ourselves outside for long at a time, it's not safe."

Harry glanced back into the trees. Somehow – despite Lupin's earlier warning – he hadn't thought there was much of a threat to their safety this afternoon. A huge attack on St. Mungo's that morning; would the Death Eaters really still be active today?

As Hagrid re-locked the gates, Lupin looked around quizzically.

"There's no guard, Hagrid?" he said to the half-giant's back, frowning. "Aren't there supposed to be Aurors on duty at the gates? I thought we were going to have trouble getting past them."

"They got called ter St. Mungo's this mornin'," said Hagrid. "Ter help sort out all the Muggles who saw the attack. 'S just me here fer now – me an' Fang, o' course."

Lupin began to look alarmed. "No Aurors?" he repeated. "No protection?"

Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "There's on'y a coupla students here," he said. "Most of 'em went home fer Christmas, see? The Ministry said Mungo's was needin' 'em more than Hogwarts."

"But, surely…" began Lupin.

Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder; Lupin staggered. "Hogwarts has spells an' all ter keep it safe," he said reassuringly. "The new Headmaster saw ter that, an' though he migh' not be the friendliest bloke I've ever met, he used ter be an Auror – I guess he knows his stuff alrigh'."

Lupin opened his mouth but Hagrid had already turned away. "Well, how are yeh, Harry?" he said, throwing one enormous arm round Harry's shoulders and beaming at him, then the others. "An' all o' yeh! Yeh alrigh'?"

"Yeah, not too bad, Hagrid," said Harry, smiling up at the familiar whiskery face. "Feel a whole lot better now I'm outside."

"Ar, it's no fun bein' cooped up, I know tha'," said Hagrid sympathetically. "But what brings yeh here then? Christmas Day, too! Not jus' ter visit me, I'm guessin'." He smiled at them through his beard.

Harry felt awkward. "Well, er – we –"

"I didn't mean tha'," said Hagrid, waving his hand. "Yeh've got more important things ter be gettin' on with. But I don' see what Hogwarts can have ter do with yer job a' the moment. Is it summat else yeh've come here fer?"

"Er – no, we're here to look for a – You-Know-What," said Harry, very quietly. Neville's mouth dropped and Hagrid dropped his keys.

"At Hogwarts? No! Not in the castle," he said incredulously, not noticing as Fang picked up the keys in his mouth and whined. "Hogwarts wouldn't have – something like tha' in it!"

Harry spread his hands. "We're not sure," he said. He bent down and pulled the keys from Fang's jaws, then wished he hadn't; they were slimy with drool. "Here," he said hastily, shoving them into Hagrid's moleskin-gloved hand and wiping his own on his jeans. "Shall we get going, then?"

"One moment," said Lupin abruptly. "I'm not sure this is a good idea –"

"What? We're backing out? It was your idea in the first place," said Ron, shooting Lupin a surprised glance.

"I realise that," Lupin replied coolly. "But I didn't realise that Hogwarts didn't have Auror protection today. I have a bad feeling about this." He gazed pensively back at the dark trees.

"It's full moon tonight," said Hermione timidly. "Are you sure it's not that, you know – making you feel –?"

Lupin shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Look, perhaps we should go back – just in case."

Harry wondered briefly what had happened to the mischievous, adventurous light that had shone in Lupin's eyes less than twenty minutes ago.

"I don't want to lead you anywhere dangerous," he said at last. "But it won't take long to go in and out quickly, just to see if the cup's there. Besides, didn't you say you'd always wanted to see the Chamber of Secrets?"

Lupin shook his head. "I'm not putting personal curiosity above your safety, Harry."

"Well, we're here now," said Ron impatiently. "Decide soon, because my feet are getting frostbite."

"Let's go to the Chamber," said Harry, after a moment's hesitation. An old phrase was niggling in his mind: _constant vigilance_... But he pushed the thought aside. He was beginning to feel a strange pull towards the castle; perhaps he was just imagining it, but he felt as though the Horcrux was waiting for him. "We're so close now."

Ron set off towards the castle without another word, still blowing on his hands to warm them. Harry immediately went after his very visible friend and pulled him back. Throwing the Cloak over himself and Ron – Hermione, too, ducking beneath its silvery folds – they vanished from sight. Lupin paused, then, finally, nodded reluctantly. As Neville, Ginny, and Lupin disappeared again under Mad-Eye's cloak, Hagrid remained standing seemingly alone by the Hogwarts gates.

"See you, Hagrid – Happy Christmas!" said Harry from beneath the Cloak.

"Take care, Harry," said Hagrid anxiously. A second later, Harry received a stunning blow to the back of his head and stumbled; it seemed Hagrid had been attempting to give the invisible Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Seeing stars, Harry gasped, "Thanks, Hagrid – you'd better get back now, it's going to look suspicious if someone sees you hanging around out here." He gave Hagrid's huge hand a reassuring squeeze – the half-giant waved and began to walk away with earth-shaking treads – and the little group moved in an invisible huddle up towards the castle.

The protective spells on the castle itself made it very difficult for any of them to get inside; Harry hadn't thought about this. After nearly a full circuit of the castle, during which they tried magically unlocking, blasting and vanishing several windows and doors with a combined effort, Harry began to feel frustrated and rather stupid. He hadn't dragged the others here for nothing…

"We can't have come all the way to be – stopped – by the – _doors_," he grunted angrily, pointing his wand yet again at one of the smaller side-exits. The door shuddered and glowed red as it was hit by a number of curses, but stood firm.

Then, without warning, it burst open. Hermione gave a short, quickly-stifled scream and Harry felt rather than heard Lupin stumble backwards. An all too-familiar wizard was standing in the doorway, a tall man with a cold face and hard blue eyes: Samuel Penwick, the Auror who had sent Lupin to Azkaban. Harry had no idea what Penwick was doing here but he was one of the last people he wanted to meet right now. He could feel Hermione trembling beside him, and she tugged at his sleeve. As the Auror gazed suspiciously around, the little group hidden under the Invisibility Cloaks began to move silently, of one accord, to one side and out of Penwick's line of fire.

"Who's there? snapped Penwick, in a much harder voice than Hagrid's. His eyes raked the grounds as he raised his wand. "Show yourself! _Relashio_!"

The spell whipped through the air, missing them all except Neville; but his body only jerked soundlessly as the spell bounced off him. The Shield Moss was doing its work. They began to edge up against the wall as Penwick stepped out into the open, casting a lasting Shield Charm over himself as he did so. Harry hardly dared breathe. He felt guilt and fear clawing at his insides; if Lupin got caught again, because of him….

"Something the matter, Headmaster?" squeaked another familiar voice, and tiny Professor Flitwick appeared at Penwick's side. _Headmaster_? thought Harry in shock, then pressed himself more closely against the wall as a tired-looking Horace Slughorn and a haggard witch with grey hair who Harry didn't know appeared behind Flitwick.

"Yes," said Penwick deliberately. "That door was rocking and glowing before I opened it. And I noticed some disturbances earlier. Someone is here, trying to get into the castle."

"Into the castle!" said the grey-haired witch faintly, clutching her throat. "Not – not _his_ followers? Should we – should we warn –"

"One moment," said Penwick coldly, and Harry's heart began to pump wildly. Penwick was looking at the place where they stood. No – he was looking at the grass on which they stood, flattened by six pairs of boots! As the realisation that they were caught hit Harry like a lump of lead, Penwick roared, "_Accio Invisibility Cloak!_"

Harry, Ron and Lupin snatched at the fluid material but it was too late. Both Cloaks were wrenched away from them to fall at the Headmaster's feet and they stood, fully revealed, huddled against the cold stone wall. Slughorn and Flitwick both cried out in surprise and the grey-haired witch gave a trembling gasp.

For a moment Penwick didn't react – taken aback, perhaps, by the fact that he had uncovered Harry Potter and not a group of Death Eaters. That split second gave Harry his chance.

"_Incarcerous_!" he bellowed, jabbing his wand as Lupin had instructed him. Thin ropes shot at lightning speed from its tip, but slipped and slithered on Penwick's Shield Charm, unable to get a grip. Then hexes flew from either side of Harry; the others closed in and when they backed away, the Ministry Auror lay in the wet grass, struggling against invisible bonds which Lupin controlled with his wand.

"Remus Lupin," spat Penwick, hatred in every line of his thin, hard face. "You'll pay for this, werewolf! Horace, Filius, Prunella – don't just stand there! Arrest them!"

"Dear me, what a day. I'm not used to all this," muttered Slughorn, who still looked shocked, and the witch called Prunella simply covered her mouth with her hands. But Flitwick, who had watched the proceedings with a bemused air, simply stepped over the Auror's prone body and towards Harry.

"I'm sorry, Samuel," he squeaked merrily. "But as a teacher I'm afraid I haven't the power to arrest anybody – especially not on Christmas Day!" he added good-naturedly. "What brings you here, Potter, Weasley – Weasley – ahem! – all of you? Surely not just to attack our new Headmaster?"

Slughorn was watching Harry curiously through his very round, protuberant eyes.

"Er – no," said Harry, smiling embarrassedly and looking down at his tiny old Charms teacher. "We needed to – er – to look for –"

"From reading the _Daily Prophet,_ I think I know!" Flitwick told him. "But in Hogwarts? Are you sure?"

"Well, not really, but…."

"You'd better get on with it, then, Potter!" squeaked Flitwick, handing Harry back the two Invisibility Cloaks. "Come and find me in my office when you're done and I'll let you out of the castle. We'll take care of the Headmaster – modify his memory, of course."

He seemed not to hear Penwick's irate splutters of protest.

"Thanks, Professor," said Harry gratefully, taking the Cloaks from the little wizard.

"One moment – before I let you into the castle – if you could just prove to me that you _are_ Potter?" asked Flitwick, looking at Harry from under his thick white eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry. "Er –"

"Show Filius your Patronus, Harry," called Lupin, taking his eyes off Penwick, who was struggling like a madman against the invisible ropes that bound him.

Harry raised his wand. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The shining silver stag blossomed from the wand tip, casting a brilliant white light over the darkening grounds. It cantered over Penwick, who shuddered, then Harry sent it in the direction of the Forbidden forest. There it faded into mist and vanished.

"Oh, very good, very good, Potter!" beamed Professor Flitwick, clapping his tiny hands, and he bowed Harry and the others into the castle.

They ran as quickly and silently as they could towards the girls' bathrooms, those who knew where the Chamber's entrance was guiding those who did not. The place was empty when they reached it, though the sound of gurgling and splashing from the furthest cubicle indicated the usual presence of Moaning Myrtle in her favourite U-bend.

"How do we get in – through a toilet?" said Lupin's voice, sounding bemused.

"Through the sink," said Ginny in a voice which wobbled very slightly. "But we'll need a way to get out again first."

"That should be easy enough – we can fly out," said Hermione. "_Accio school brooms!_ Harry –" but she was interrupted.

"Who's there?" cried an irritable voice, and Myrtle's ghostly form swept through the cubicle door. "Oh, invisible, are we? Playing tricks on Myrtle even on Christmas Day? If that's you, Peeves, I'll flush you into the lake – oh! Look who it is!"

Harry had pulled the Cloak off his head.

"I didn't think you were ever going to visit me again," Myrtle simpered, looking dewily at Harry through her thick, pearly-white glasses. "The Lovegood girl told me you had _left_."

"Well – er – "

A rattling, rushing sound interrupted him as a host of tattered old school brooms zoomed into the bathroom and clattered at Hermione's feet.

"It's nice to see you again, Myrtle," Harry lied hurriedly. "But actually – um –"

Myrtle's eyes suddenly sparkled with tears.

"Oh, I see – you don't have to explain – you're not here to visit me after all – you never are! _Oh!_" And she zoomed through the wall with a familiar screeching wail.

"Let's go," said Harry, after a pause in which Neville and Lupin both looked bemused. He pointed his wand at the door and it banged shut, sealing itself with a sucking, squelching noise. Harry pulled the Cloak fully off, stuffed it in his pocket, and approached the sink he had not seen since his second year. He shivered slightly as he saw the tiny snake engraved on the tap. It seemed to be looking at him.

"_Open_," he said in Parseltongue, the word flowing out in a drawn-out hiss. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Lupin looking at him with a strange expression; then the sink began to fall out of sight and Harry only saw the gaping black hole which led to the Chamber of Secrets. A damp smell filled his nostrils as he mounted his broom, and his mouth felt oddly dry. He could definitely feel the pull of something down there that he had not felt last time. He wondered if he had become more tuned in to Voldemort's Horcruxes – like some weird kind of soul detector.

"You don't have to go, Ginny," said Ron kindly, and Harry looked round. Ginny had an odd, closed look on her face as she looked at the dark tunnel. But when Ron spoke, she jerked back to life and her mouth set.

"Don't be stupid," she said scathingly. "I'm not staying behind."

She swung her right leg over her broom and it jumped forward; she flew first down the Chamber entrance and they heard the whoosh of her broom as it travelled deeper below the school. Harry immediately followed her, the bright light of the girls' bathroom disappearing in an instant as he entered the tunnel. He urged the broom downwards, swerving to avoid the smooth, slimy stone walls when they turned a corner. Soon he was zooming out of the dark tunnel into the horribly familiar Chamber.

It was eerily silent; as he dismounted, rat bones cracked nastily under his feet. Ginny stood a little way from him, looking round the Chamber with wide eyes. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but Harry thought she looked paler than usual. He reached over and patted her on the arm as the others came whooshing one by one out of the tunnel.

"So this is the Chamber of Secrets," said Lupin, surveying the Chamber interestedly. "Well, well...James and Sirius would have loved this."

Neville, who had fallen off his broom upon landing (he had never been a good flyer), picked himself up and shivered.

"I think it's here," Harry murmured. "I can feel it."

He could definitely feel the pull of something strange – an unaccountable attraction towards the centre of the Chamber, where he had last met the Basilisk. His mouth was dry with excitement and apprehension; he was almost certain that the Horcrux was concealed here somewhere – but what sort of protections would Voldemort have placed over this one?

"I can feel something too," said Ron. "Like something's pulling me – weird," he added, looking discomfited.

"Me too," mumbled Neville, and the others nodded.

"Yes, there's something down here," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Come," he added, "we shouldn't linger."

They dumped the brooms at the base of the tunnel and headed into the darkness, stumbling over the hundreds of brittle bones as they passed through the huge stone hall.

"It's strange though," commented Harry in a low voice (though he didn't know why he was whispering), after he had told the emerald-eyed snakes to open the wall that barred the path to the main chamber. "I didn't feel anything last time I was down here – d'you reckon Voldemort hid it here after he came back to power?"

"Maybe," said Hermione, just as quietly, though in a higher voice than normal. "Oh, I don't like this place at all…."

Ron glanced sideways at Hermione and put his arm round her shoulders as they walked. "No, old Salazar Slytherin didn't have very inspired taste in décor, did he?" he said jokingly. "Bones, darkness, snakes...kind of unoriginal..."

Hermione gave a stilted, slightly muffled laugh.

After a good quarter of an hour they reached the main chamber; there, a horrible smell filled their nostrils. The huge, skeletal corpse of the Basilisk lay curled before them, nearly entirely rotted away after five years in the dark and the damp. Craggy scraps of skin and flesh clung dryly to the bone.

"_Urgh_," said Ron, gagging. "That's revolting..."

They skirted round the long, mouldering skeleton and into the centre of the stone hall. Then they paused. It was deathly silent, and the darkness seemed to close in on them oppressively.

"It's up there, I think," said Harry pointing to the gigantic stone statue of Salazar Slytherin that dominated the hall – in whose mouth the Basilisk had once slept.

Then the back of Harry's neck prickled, and his scar gave a sudden, warning twinge of pain.

"What is up there, Potter?" hissed a terrible, high, cold voice, which was suddenly echoing all around the Chamber and bouncing off the walls. "You didn't come here to _look_ for something?"

Harry leapt back as the statue's stone mouth slid open with a grating noise and gazed up with a thrill of horror at the dark, thin figure that towered above them, black robes rippling and an awful fury in his face.

It was Lord Voldemort.

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**Please review! I'll be very much encouraged just to know you're still with me. I've lost a LOT of readers :(**


	28. Flight in Darkness

Disclaimer: Story stuffing is not mine. Stitching only.

**Last proper chapter, and a speedy update for once! I pretty much got four unexpected free days and wrote solid. Thanks so much again to everyone who reviewed last time, or is even just still reading – I'm inexpressibly glad you've stuck with me! **

**Many thanks to Mamacita-San for beta-ing; especially this time, for being so nice as to agree to endure my over-use of ellipses... :)**

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The strange pulling sensation stopped as abruptly as the snapping of a string. Harry felt as though a bomb had exploded in his stomach as his eyes met Voldemort's awful red ones, and his thoughts flew apart. Trapped – all of them – and, of course, you couldn't Apparate out of Hogwarts –

And when Harry thought things couldn't get any worse, ten, twenty, thirty dark figures emerged, from behind pillars and mounds of broken stone, from behind the corpse of the Basilisk – Death Eaters in every direction Harry looked –

"_Get behind me!_" yelled Harry, throwing his arms out, as he completely panicked. His wand was in his hand and he had no idea how it had got there, nor was he fully conscious of the others moving, not behind him, but around him, encircling him. "Don't move," Harry muttered feverishly. "Don't do anything yet – not yet –"

"_So!_" screamed Voldemort. Even though he was far above them, they could see that his eyes were livid. As though from a very long way off, Harry heard Neville give a whimper of pure terror. "So you thought you could defeat me, Potter – _you_ – a mere boy – thought you could destroy Lord Voldemort!"

For this first time, Harry saw a gleam of gold in Voldemort's left hand – _Hufflepuff's cup_...his stomach gave a funny leap...

"No one can live forever!" he shouted, as his mind whirled; his scar was searing and it felt as though he and Voldemort were on a separate plane, everything around them shrouded in darkness. Harry could feel eagerness and a deep terror that he knew was not just his own. "Death will come for all of us –"

"_Never_," hissed Voldemort, and his voice was venom. "You are a fool, Potter, and as such you will experience the death you embrace so readily – yes, tonight! Stand back, my friends," he ordered, and the Death Eaters around them shifted. "Potter will die by my hand only, and before this night is over."

"Get down, then, and face me like a man," yelled Harry. "Or are you going to hide up there while you kill me?" Every fibre of him hoped and prayed that if Voldemort came down, he would bring the cup within Harry's reach – what then, he did not know.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed as they bored into Harry's own – though he was so far above, the distance between them seemed very little.

"Do you think I would be such a fool?" said Voldemort softly. With his left hand, while his wand hand never moved, he placed the cup onto a flattish rock just in front of him and clicked his fingers. With a roar, flames – leaping, black-purple flames – burst up round the cup, shielding it from view.

"Let me see," said Voldemort quietly. "I think you requested me to come down and face you like a man, Harry Potter?" He began to move, gliding like a dark ghost down the stone statue. "Now, tell your little guard to stand back."

The others moved closer to Harry, who said urgently, "No – listen to him –"

"Did I not make myself clear, Harry? Do you require me to kill your friends before I raise my wand against you? You have ten seconds to stand back," said Voldemort, addressing the others directly for the first time as he continued to sweep down the rock face. "Harry and I have a little matter to settle between us..."

"Go," murmured Harry, his voice shaking. "You heard what he said, go –"

"Harry, this is madness –"

"You can't – not yet –"

"The _cup_ –"

Voldemort had reached level ground, the black flames which hid the cup flickering far above him.

"_Move_," said Harry, in his fear more harshly than he had intended. "No one's throwing their lives away for me this time –" He tried to push in front of Ron and Ginny, but they both shoved him roughly back.

"So be it," said Voldemort coldly. "It makes no difference." He paused, and then pointed his wand at Ginny.

"No!" cried Ron hoarsely, throwing himself in front of his sister as Lupin and Harry also surged forward to protect her.

Lupin cried, "Stupefy!" as Harry and Ron both yelled, "Protego!"

Harry felt a great jab of impatience that he did not think was his own, and another flash of pain leapt through his scar.

"Get out of my way," Voldemort snarled, and he slashed the air with his wand; the Shield Charms collapsed and Hermione gave a piercing scream as, in a crackling flash of light, Ron, Lupin, and Ginny were thrown bodily twenty feet and landed, crumpled and lifeless, on the stony floor.

"NO!" Weak with stupefied horror, seeing his own deathly white face reflected back in Voldemort's red eyes, unable to look at his friends' unmoving bodies, Harry's world began to spin. "No..." he croaked. "Not them..." Dizzy and light-headed, he felt himself stumble, and from behind him came quiet but heart-wrenching sobs – Hermione...

"Hold the others," said Voldemort indifferently, in his high, cruel voice. "If they struggle, kill them."

Harry straightened up slowly, agonisingly – he could not comprehend that they could be gone, like Sirius, like Dumbledore – not Ginny and Lupin...not _Ron_...unless they were still alive – Voldemort had not used the Killing Curse – but his mind was screaming and he was sick to his stomach, and he felt as though something deep within him had died, too... Harry heard, through the roaring in his ears, Death Eaters move forward and drag Hermione and Neville away from him. He was on his own...the low laughter of the Death Eaters was all around him as he stood in the centre of that great stone hall...

"Watch carefully," Voldemort told his Death Eaters, who listened with rapt attention. "Watch as I kill Harry Potter, and remember what happens to those who dare defy Lord Voldemort."

"What goes around comes around," croaked Harry suddenly, swallowing painfully. But his voice was shaking and his threat sounded hollow even to him.

"Do not toy with me, Harry Potter," said Voldemort coldly. "You think I cannot read your mind? You do not know how to kill, you have never even said the words of the Killing Curse – and you know very well what lies within those flames up there, tethering me to eternal life –"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying; he only knew that the raw and aching pain within him was beginning to turn to murderous grief. "But what if I kill you here and then smash up your precious Horcrux? Then where will you be?" He had spoken without even thinking; but as the words left his lips, he realised their possible truth with a jolt.

Voldemort evidently had, too, for his pupils suddenly contracted and Harry felt a flash of the other wizard's fear in the pit of his stomach. And Voldemort finally moved forward, quick and deadly, like a serpent.

"_Avada_ –"

But Harry had been waiting, every muscle taut, for the Killing Curse, and as soon as Voldemort's mouth began to shape the fatal words, Harry yelled with all his might, _"Expelliarmus!_"

It was his lifeline – it had worked before – and his heart gave a dull leap as the green light met the red and the wands connected as they had done three years previously.

"No!" shrieked Voldemort as they began to rise into the air and the golden threads of light started to spring up all around them. "Not again –" And he wrenched his wand just as a huge, bright bead of light touched it. The half-formed dome splintered and Harry and Voldemort were thrown, several metres apart, to the floor, the light and faint musical song vanishing in an instant.

Harry landed not three feet away from Lupin and for a second found himself staring at the werewolf's pale, deathly face. Lupin was not breathing, and Harry felt another gut-wrenching pain shoot through him. He could not even look at Ron and Ginny.

"No!" Harry heard Voldemort hiss, and he felt another jolt of horror not his own. Harry scrambled to his feet and turned, but Voldemort was not looking at him. He was staring at his wand, which he held in both hands – a mess of splintered yew wood and crimson phoenix feather. Harry realised it must have shattered when Voldemort had broken the connection between the wands; and Voldemort's face showed his utter shock and dismay.

"My Lord!" called a voice. "Take this one!" It was the Death Eater beside the one holding Neville. He wrenched Neville's wand away from his fiercely resisting fingertips and began to walk toward his master, who slowly stretched out his white-fingered hand, still staring down at his broken wand. Then Harry came to his senses. Voldemort was yet unarmed; what was he doing, lying here – was he going to let his friends fall for nothing?

Harry raised his wand and bellowed, "_TERRA LEVOTUM!_"

He put every ounce of his strength, all his grief and pain and fury, into the spell – a spell which Ron had found only yesterday on one of the Black family library books – and the ground erupted under his and Voldemort's feet with a power that completely shocked him. The floor cracked and rumbled, then shot upward in a great mass of heaving stone and falling rock. The Death Eaters yelled and surged backwards, and Harry felt another wave of pain as he glimpsed Ron, Ginny, and Lupin's bodies being lifted and thrown even further by the force of the eruption. He and Voldemort both fell again as they were propelled upward, thrown about by the shifting rock. When the stones finally rumbled to a shuddering halt, they found themselves fifty feet above the Death Eaters, on separate sides of the great rocky mountain, and Harry saw with a jolt that the black flames wreathing Hufflepuff's cup were only a dozen feet above his head.

"_Ahh..._" Harry gasped as suddenly an intense, itching pain erupted all over his body. The heat radiating from the shining black-purple flames had struck him, and, horrified, Harry saw his skin begin to crumple and burn as though it were being eaten away. Blindly, he half-scrambled, half-fell down the rock until the heat from the flames no longer reached him and his flesh stopped crawling with pain. Panting and sweating, he felt the skin on his arms and face – it was not too badly damaged, but tender and painful.

"Yes...it will dissolve the flesh when you get too near," said a quiet voice, and Voldemort appeared around the side of the mountain of broken stone, several metres away. "It cannot be reached, not even if you cover yourself with the strongest protective spells known to wizards – so you see, Harry? Destroying my body would be futile, for I would only return once more."

But Harry barely heard, or noticed as Voldemort began to climb with ease and clear intent over the rocks toward him; for he was staring at something that lay within inches of his left hand, half hidden in the shadow of a jagged stone. A crumpled scarlet feather and a dozen pieces of dark, splintered wood. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Harry stretched out his hand towards the remains of Voldemort's wand and picked up the ruby-red feather. It vibrated in his hand, moving on its own; it twisted and unfurled into a magnificent scarlet plume. From a very long way off, Harry thought he could hear phoenix song.

"I do not need a wand to kill you, Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort's voice, suddenly above him, and Harry's head jerked up to see Voldemort standing not three feet away. He raised his wand in a flash, but Voldemort was quicker; the elder wizard made a sweeping movement with his hands and raw magic surged forth. Harry found himself flying off the mountain of rock, tossed as easily as a bird in a storm, and spinning down toward the stone floor fifty feet below. His heart seemed to freeze with terror as he fell and the breath was dragged from his lungs; but the phoenix feather he still grasped was vibrating harder, moving in Harry's hand as though it were alive, and the distant song was growing louder. Even as Harry plummeted, yelling, he felt the feather writhe, red-hot, in his hand...

And then, in a rush of scarlet and gold flame, Fawkes the phoenix materialised beneath Harry's flailing body and he was clinging to the warm and living bird; and he was rising again, and they were circling the Chamber in a great blaze of fire.

"_Fawkes?_" choked Harry, head spinning as he drew a great, shuddering breath of amazement and relief. The phoenix's great scarlet wings were spread on either side of him, and the plumed head with its long golden bill was held high in front of his eyes as they rose higher and higher to the very top of the cavernous Chamber...and Harry thought he heard, far below him, a scream of rage from Voldemort. Jets of green light flashed around them as the Death Eaters below aimed their curses at Fawkes, but the phoenix swooped round them with ease and glided down again, toward the colossal statue of Salazar Slytherin. Then the jets of green light stopped abruptly, and Harry thought he heard distant yells; but though he craned to see what was happening below, all was confusion and darkness.

Fawkes landed on Slytherin's stone head, sliding into a crevice: one of the sweeping folds of granite hair. Harry slipped off and stared at the beautiful bird with gratitude deeper than he had ever felt before. The bird's bright eyes seemed to slightly soothe the dry, raw ache in him that had been there since he stared at his friends' lifeless bodies.

"That's the second time you've saved my life in here, Fawkes," he said, with a painful lump in his throat. The phoenix dipped his head so that his plumes bobbed and gave a low, musical call, then with a rush of wings took off again into the air. He swooped downwards, and Harry, unable to see where he had gone, had no idea what was going on; he heard shouts below, and from his hiding place behind a huge, curling lock of hair he spied Voldemort staring upward with fury and fear in his eyes.

"_No!_" Voldemort howled once again, and raised his hands. Harry saw Fawkes rise up again with a screech, and his stomach gave a funny jerk – the phoenix was gripping Hufflepuff's cup in his great golden claws, his feathers entirely undamaged by the flesh-eating flames.

"Fawkes!" yelled Harry. "You got through the fire!" He was filled with a sudden wild hope, and his heart began to beat painfully fast. But the distant shouts were getting louder; Fawkes was beating his wings hard and getting nowhere; he was falling. Magic was pouring from Voldemort's outstretched hands, magic so powerful that as it pulsed through the air toward Fawkes it lifted all the hairs on Harry's head and made his skin crawl. It was a battle between the magical bird and Voldemort, and Fawkes was struggling, losing height. Harry pointed his own wand at Voldemort and from his hiding place bellowed the spell that for some reason leapt first to his mind: "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The silver stag exploded from his wand with more force than ever before, so much that Harry staggered. He did not understand why it was so powerful, for he was anything but happy; but his fear and grief and love for Ron, Ginny, and Lupin had been forefront in his mind as he cast the spell, and now the great stag charged through the air toward Voldemort in a dazzling burst of light. Voldemort stumbled; the force of the stag's charge lifted him off his feet, and Harry glimpsed him tumbling and slipping down the mountain of crumbled rock. Fawkes, released from the power that had been dragging him down, soared up once more, up above Harry's head; and the magnificent bird released his grip on the golden cup. The goblet fell, turning over and over through the air, toward Harry, who caught it, amazed. He was hardly able to believe it as he convulsively gripped the last Horcrux – which was icy cold – in his hands.

"Thank you, Fawkes, thank you!" he shouted to the blaze of scarlet and gold feathers above him, and Fawkes opened his beak to pour forth a gush of phoenix song; it seemed to fill Harry with warmth and strength. He knew what he had to do. Shoving the Horcrux into his coat pocket, he threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and began a slithering descent down the gigantic statue. As he jumped onto the tip of Slytherin's giant ear he saw Fawkes swoop downward and out of sight once more.

Voldemort was still fighting off his Patronus, Harry realised as he scrambled downward; and as he reached Slytherin's neck he could finally see what was going on fifty feet below, and what all the shouting was about. As he looked downward to the tiny people far below, his mouth dropped open. The Death Eaters were in full battle against – Harry screwed up his eyes and squinted – could it be?

A rush of amazement flooded through Harry's entire body as he distinguished some of those fighting the dark figures of the Death Eaters: both teachers and members of the Order of the phoenix, and – Harry suddenly went dizzy, as his heart blazed with a joy so acute it was painful – Lupin and Ginny, yes, and Ron, were among the fighters! At least – Harry screwed up his eyes – not fighting, but being pulled to their feet by Hermione and Neville. Fawkes was circling them, his wings trailing fire, and they were straightening up slowly, as though waking from a very deep sleep. A dark figure shot a curse in their direction, but the jet of red light was swallowed by the phoenix fire...they were safe... Absolutely bursting with relief and happiness, and too intent on watching his friends joyfully to pay heed to where he was going, Harry missed his footing and tumbled about a dozen feet down Slytherin's great stone sleeve. Catching himself before he slithered right off the statue, Harry pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and, suddenly laughing madly despite the seriousness of his situation, began to propel himself downward with even greater determination and a new hope.

The silver stag had shone even brighter when Harry had spotted Ron and Ginny and Lupin on their feet, and Voldemort was actually clinging to the mountain of stone to avoid being thrown off the rock face altogether. But eventually, with an obvious effort, the wizard let go of the stone with one hand. A ball of what seemed to be pure darkness began to blossom in his palm, then another, and the rolling black spheres hurled themselves at the stag; Harry's Patronus shivered and began, slowly, to fade. Harry, under the Cloak, slithered downwards faster and faster; when he reached Slytherin's huge foot he jumped the last eight or nine feet. He landed heavily on the stony floor and paused a moment to get used to being on level ground once more. The fight was blazing around him; he ran flat out, invisible, around the dozens of fiercely-duelling figures, heading toward the far side of the Chamber where he had seen Ron and the others.

He passed Fleur, who was engaged in a one-on-one battle with Narcissa Malfoy; he ducked under the arm of Rodolphus Lestrange who, to Harry's great surprise, was duelling Snape; he saw Hagrid bring one giant fist smashing into an unknown Death Eater's face, and Fred and George shooting hexes at Amycus Carrow; he ran past Mr and Mrs Weasley, Professors Flitwick, Sinistra, and Slughorn, Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback, Kingsley Shacklebolt...he even saw Moaning Myrtle swooping mournfully over the heads of the fighters...bodies were on the floor, too, but he did not look at them, did not want to see their faces...

Finally Harry glimpsed Neville and Hermione fighting a single Death Eater, trying to drive him away from Ron, Ginny, and Lupin. As he ran closer he saw that they looked half-dead and were having trouble even defending themselves. Fawkes had disappeared. From behind, Harry pointed his wand at the back of the Death Eater's head – duelling etiquette entirely forgotten – and bellowed, _"Stupefy!_"

The Death Eater – Harry recognised him as Yaxley – crumpled, and Hermione and Neville looked bewildered, staring around for their saviour. Harry stumbled forward, inexpressibly glad to find himself amongst them once more – the hour that had passed since he had first believed three of them dead had been hell – and said as loudly as he dared, "Don't worry, it's me."

"Harry?" squeaked Hermione, who was very white. But Harry hardly heard; the first thing he did was walk past her to pull Ron, Ginny, and Lupin each into a brief, warm embrace.

"Harry..." breathed Ginny faintly.

"Don't talk," said Harry firmly, alarmed to see how pale she was. He tugged them all behind a huge stone pillar that hid them entirely, and pushed the Cloak off his head.

"Oh, Harry, we can't do this," said Hermione, half-sobbing when she saw him. Her eyes were wild and she was supporting Ron, who had sunk onto her arm, with difficulty. "We need the cup or Voldemort's still invincible, and Ron and Ginny and Remus are going to need to get out of here soon –"

"Yes to your second point," said Harry quickly, glancing at Ginny, who had sunk back to the floor, looking like death, and at Ron, who was only standing because half his weight was on Hermione's arm. Lupin, after Harry had let go of him, had leant against the pillar, eyes closed and hands gripping the stone behind him for support. "How did they survive?" he whispered.

Hermione just shook her head, tears in her eyes, but Neville said hoarsely, "Fawkes – he flew over them and started singing and they moved...they can't've died before, but I dunno if they would've woken up if...but Harry, Fawkes got hit by Yaxley's curse – here –" Neville scooped a tiny, wrinkled bird out of his pocket. The baby Fawkes gave a faint chirp.

"Will they – will they die now without the phoenix song?" Hermione whispered suddenly, her eyes shining with tears.

"I don't know," said Harry, swallowing; then his scar – which had been throbbing almost continually – suddenly flashed with pain. He realised that Voldemort, unable to see him, was probing for his mind, seeking desperately for the one he knew held his Horcrux...

"Hermione – I need to move," he said quickly. "Take this –"

Hermione gasped as Harry shoved Hufflepuff's cup into her fumbling hands.

"You got it – but how –"

"Is Bill here?" Harry interrupted, trying to ignore the mounting pain in his head.

"Y-yes, he came with the others –"

"Find him," he said quickly. "Neville, go with her, okay? Bill knows how to destroy Horcruxes and I haven't got a clue. But whatever you do, don't lose it and don't let anyone know you've got it! Here – take this –" He pulled off the Cloak and pushed it into Neville's hands.

"But you need it!" said Hermione, looking shocked.

"He'll find me anyway," said Harry urgently, his hands pressed over his burning scar. He could feel Voldemort searching for him, knew that he was getting closer. "I need to distract him so he doesn't find the Cup. Now get going – find Bill – I'll take care of the others."

"Here," said Hermione, rapping him sharply on the head with her wand, and Harry felt the familiar trickling sensation that told him he had just been Disillusioned. Looking down at himself he saw a patchy, half-visible version of himself. "It's not perfect," said Hermione, biting her lip. "I've never actually tried one before – but it'll help."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, genuinely grateful. "Now, get going –"

"We'll do it, Harry," said Neville suddenly, pushing the baby Fawkes back into his pocket. "Count on us!"

Harry took Ron's weight off Hermione's shoulder – he had fainted completely – and watched as Neville and Hermione disappeared beneath the Cloak and headed off into the fray.

Then he turned. Lupin seemed the most conscious of the three, and Harry spoke quickly to him. "Remus, can you –" but his words died on his lips as Lupin's eyes suddenly snapped open. His pupils had dilated, and it seemed that every muscle in his body had tautened.

"Remus!" yelled Harry, dragging Ron away in shock and terror as Lupin doubled up and began to snarl. And Hermione's earlier words rang through his mind: _It's full moon tonight...are you sure that's not what's making you feel bad?_

"But not _now_!" cried Harry stupidly, as he panicked, and with every ounce of strength in his body, he wrenched Ron backwards, looking frantically for a safe place to put him; but he didn't have time – Ginny was still in danger – and finally he pushed Ron into the coils of the dead Basilisk, which at least afforded some protection. Then he ran, flat-out, back to Ginny; she had staggered to her feet out of pure terror and was stumbling toward him, white to the lips.

Lupin had fully transformed; he howled, and the sound seemed to echo all over the Chamber. Harry led Ginny frantically over to the Basilisk's corpse and pushed her down beside Ron.

"Play dead," he said to her urgently. "Please, for all our sakes!" Then he stood up, raking the scene before him with his eyes.

Lupin, he realised with relief, had pounded off away from Ron and Ginny and into the middle of the fight; but he was not the only one. Harry went cold as he realised there were six, seven, eight other werewolves amongst the fighters. Screams reverberated through the air as Death Eaters, Order members, and Hogwarts teachers alike began to break up their fights and instead fend off the huge, leaping, snarling beasts; Stunning spells were having no effect. Harry saw that the werewolves were in a frenzy – excited, no doubt, by the scent of so much human blood. Then dark figures began breaking away and running for the exit; Harry realised that all the Death Eaters still standing were fleeing for their lives, leaving the Order members and teachers to fight the beasts alone; and as Harry followed them with his eyes, he saw Bill on the other side of the Chamber. The half-werewolf had not transformed, but seemed to be listening intently to nothing at all. Then Harry glimpsed a gleam of gold, and realised that Bill had been given the golden cup by an invisible Hermione. Incautiously he stood on tiptoe, straining to see what Bill would do with it. The eldest Weasley glanced round, backed quickly away from the main fighting, threw up a protective shield, and began passing his wand two and fro over the cup, which began to glow...

Harry's scar suddenly blazed, and he yelled in pain. As though through a mist he saw Voldemort, still standing on the rock mountain – he had found Harry, even through Hermione's shaky Disillusionment Charm. Their eyes met and Voldemort gave a howl that matched those of the furious werewolves.

Harry instantly raised his wand. _You have the_ _advantage_, he told himself; _Voldemort isn't even armed_. And he threw himself into full view, pointed his wand directly at Voldemort, and bellowed the most powerful spell he knew how to do, the one Hermione had found all those months ago.

_"PYRASHIO!_"

The waves of fire that thundered from his wand nearly knocked Harry off his feet again, and he backed up against the Basilisk skin for support; then he saw what Voldemort was doing and scrambled desperately over it, sliding down again beside Ron and Ginny. The explosion of fire was being stopped, controlled, and changed by Voldemort into fiery serpents, which began to writhe their way through the air toward them.

"_Protego!_" Harry yelled as he flattened himself against the stone floor, and the invisible shield which had expanded over the three of them hissed and shuddered as the fire-snakes slithered over it; but with nothing to burn, they began to fade into smoke.

"I can't do this," he said wildly to himself. "I'm not strong enough – he hasn't even got a wand and still –"

"Keep going, Harry," murmured Ginny thickly. "You're doing brilliantly...and we'll come, as soon as we can..."

Harry's head jerked round and her met her gaze; Ginny's eyes were open again. She had her hands pressed to her head and her colour was returning.

"Are you –?"

"Healing..." muttered Ginny. "We'll be all right – keep fighting – I really love you, Harry..."

The lump had returned to Harry's throat. He leant over and kissed her cheek, then stood up with fresh determination.

Voldemort was making his way down the rocky mountain, sweeping down abnormally quickly; but he still had at least thirty feet to go. Harry felt a surge of boiling hot fury that was not his own and realised that Voldemort was no longer looking at him – he was gazing across the Chamber where Bill Weasley stood. Harry froze, horrified, but it was too late; Voldemort gave a chilling scream and stretched out both his hands. Once again magic poured from them, rushing a hundred feet over the fighters' heads. Bill looked up and Harry saw his mouth fall open just before he was flung backwards into the wall to slip, senseless, to the floor. The Horcrux rolled across the floor, still glowing – and then it vanished.

Harry stared, horrified, then realised: Hermione and Neville, under the Cloak. He prayed that Voldemort would not be able to find them...

And then Harry heard a high-pitched scream of terror.

"_Hermione_?"

He froze as he saw her running, the Cloak falling off, across the Chamber toward him. The were no Death Eaters left – all those still standing had run from the werewolves – and eight of the nine monsters had been or were being subdued by the remaining fighters, bound in heavy silver manacles, and lay writhing and snarling on the floor. But Hermione was pursued by the ninth, a huge beast nearly twice the size of Lupin in wolf form, and the monster was gaining on her fast.

"Hermione!" yelled Harry again, sending a desperate Stunner at the werewolf – but it only bounced harmlessly off – and then Hermione stumbled.

Harry did not stop to think. As the werewolf bore down on Hermione, Harry threw himself over the Basilisk skin and began to run full-tilt toward her. She was only a few feet away from him...but then he heard Voldemort scream again, and this time it was Harry who was thrown off his feet; he flew through the air to land with a rude thump on the floor twenty feet away. Leaping to his feet instantly, he saw that Voldemort had reached the base of the rocky mountain and was advancing rapidly toward Hermione; she was writhing under the werewolf, which pinned her to the ground. The beast lunged for her face just as Harry again threw himself toward her – then it howled. And what a howl! Harry skidded to a halt. The werewolf had let loose a snarling, gurgling, choked scream. It lifted his head, clawing at its own face, and Hermione wriggled out from beneath its claws just as Harry realised that Hufflepuff's cup was jammed tightly in its jaws. The Horcrux seemed to be melting.

Voldemort let out an unearthly screech of fury and Harry's scar exploded with pain – half-blind and staggering, he saw Voldemort stumble as though struck by intolerable pain. There was a bang and the werewolf flew backward head over heels; Voldemort had recovered enough to send it flying. But it was too late: the Horcrux was dissolving and coating the werewolf's jaws with hot, smoking gold, which trickled down its throat. The beast gave a gurgling cry and collapsed, evidently dying; then it rolled over and began to transform back into a man – suddenly Fenrir Greyback, face bloodied and splashed with burning gold, was lying before them, writhing and screaming...then blood began to pour from his mouth, mixing with the molten gold, and Greyback shuddered and jerked before his head fell to the floor – he was dead.

Then the pain receded from Harry's scar; straightening up, he realised with a thrill of fear that Voldemort was staring at Hermione with murder in his eyes. For the third time Harry pelted to Hermione's side, just as Voldemort clicked his fingers; a thin, blond Death Eater lay senseless in his path, and the man's wand flew into Voldemort's hand.

Voldemort pointed it directly at Hermione, fury in every line of his face. She raised her own wand, white-faced, just as Harry reached her.

Voldemort spoke, with raw menace in his voice. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry threw himself bodily in front of Hermione and yelled, "_Protego!_" The jet of green light reached him, encased them – his Shield Charm juddered and smashed, and the green light faded. But Harry was alive, and panting hard with fear and disbelief. Why was he still alive?

Voldemort did not raise his wand again; he was staring at Harry with more than just fear in his eyes. Both of them knew that a simple Shield Charm had never before been enough to protect from the Killing Curse; Hermione, too, was looking stunned.

"Stay away from her," said Harry, still in a state of shock, but slowly getting his shaking nerves under control. He pushed Hermione back warningly as she tried to stand.

Voldemort's eyes bore into Harry's. "What is it about you, Harry Potter?" he hissed venomously. "But you have irked me long enough –"

"You saw what just happened," said Harry slowly. He felt oddly buoyant. "You Killing Curse won't work against me. And you" – he looked at Voldemort in wondering realisation – "you are just as mortal as I am."

He walked toward Voldemort, closing the gap between them and seeing the terror in his enemy's eyes. Now that he and Voldemort were so close again Harry suddenly felt, strangely, that his panic was gone. All that was left was cold resolution. They began to pace, measuring each other up.

"Harry!" It was Mrs Weasley's voice, but Harry did not dare turn or take his eyes off Voldemort's wand. _Stay away_, he prayed, _don't come any closer! _

But the others had noticed now, and Harry heard running footsteps as others began to come to his aid –

"Stay back!" he yelled finally in desperation, just as Voldemort flicked the wand he had taken from the Death Eater. A huge, completely transparent dome formed above their heads, enclosing only the two of them and the Basilisk corpse just behind Harry, and flinging Hermione and the dead Greyback aside; the witches and wizards outside halted, shouting, but their voices reached Harry as though from very far away. Now he was alone again.

"No...just you and me now, Harry," said Voldemort quietly. "Your friends aren't coming to save you this time."

"Are you going to try to kill me, _Tom_?" Harry asked equally softly, as he raised his wand in defence. He realised now that he was not afraid; a strange idea had begun to form in his mind. It was an idea that he felt had perhaps been lying dormant for years and had only awoken now, when his Shield Charm had worked against the most powerful dark wizard in the world...

Voldemort's eyes glittered. "You dare," he breathed. "You dare to call me – but it matters not, now that you are about to die. You have been lucky so far, Harry Potter, but now you have no friends, no pet bird to protect you; a rather new situation, I think..."

Then Harry realised, and he couldn't help it – his mind flashed to Ron, lying half-dead in the Basilisk's coils, and Ginny, only slowly recovering.

Voldemort's mouth curved into a smile.

"Not so alone, then, I see!" And while his wand hand never moved, his eyes flicked to the Basilisk skin, less than three feet away, and Harry thought he heard Ron's ragged breathing.

"Don't touch them," he said boldly, though his heart pumped with fear. "They've nothing to do with you." He kept his wand trained on Voldemort's chest as they continued to pace, each taut and expecting the other to move at any minute.

"Indeed," said Voldemort. "But they have everything to do with _you_, Harry – these friends you cannot live without."

"Hurt them again," said Harry, breathing hard, "and I think I will be able to do the Killing Curse, no problem."

Again Voldemort smiled. "So Harry Potter is not so pure after all," he breathed. "Why don't you embrace your dark side, Harry? Would you not like to feel no pain when those you love are gone? For there is only _self_, that is all that matters, and once you have learnt that lesson –"

"I would become a soulless, inhuman wizard like you," said Harry. "Yeah, somehow that doesn't really attract me, you know?"

"Fool," said Voldemort again, very quietly. "You think yourself brave, yes, and powerful, because you have escaped me again and again – but as I say, your luck cannot last forever."

They stopped pacing, and simply stood facing one another, not six metres apart. Neither of them broke the other's gaze.

"You know what?" said Harry suddenly, as the truth of Voldemort's words sunk in, and his budding idea came into full bloom. "I'm not so sure."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but he waited.

"Luck, you say," said Harry, speaking very fast, and thinking rapidly. "Yes, you're right – I'm nothing special; I'm young, I haven't got half your skill or power...but I've survived, again and again."

"You have been exceptionally fortunate," said Voldemort coldly.

"I don't think so," said Harry slowly. "Why does my Shield Charm protect me against the Killing Curse, which is known to be unstoppable? No – I don't believe you can kill me, Riddle."

Eyes glittering, Voldemort looked ready to prove him wrong there and then, and Harry went on quickly. "You can't kill me for exactly the same reason you couldn't when I was only a kid: my mum's protection still flows in my veins."

"And I took your blood," hissed Voldemort vehemently. "It flows in mine also –"

"Exactly," said Harry, speaking with sudden authority; he felt sure, somehow, that his guess was right. "But does that mean the protection was broken? No; we are both kept safe by my mother's sacrifice – neither of us can kill the other. Luck has very little to do with it at all..."

"No!" screamed Voldemort, his face twisting in anger and fear; his reaction startled even Harry. The dome they were encased in quivered and then shattered in a burst of light, and Voldemort seemed hardly to notice. "_No_," repeated, advancing towards Harry. "I will not listen to your lies, Harry Potter – and I will laugh when you lie dead at my feet."

"But do you dare?" said Harry, standing his ground, and Voldemort halted. "For how can you know what will happen if the Killing Curse touches me? And this time, you are weak – you are mortal."

And, hardly daring to think about what he was doing, Harry spread his arms wide, leaving himself unprotected.

"Harry, _no_!" croaked a hoarse voice behind him, and Harry realised that Ron had emerged from the Basilisk's coils.

"Ron, get back," he said firmly, not taking his eyes off Voldemort, and he heard Ron's footsteps stumble to a reluctant halt. "Stay back, all of you!" he shouted to the spectators, some of whom were pressing forward to help him now that the dome had shattered. "This is my fight now. Will you kill me, Riddle?" he added quietly, knowing that Voldemort was delving into his mind, seeking any sign that Harry was lying. Harry made no attempt to shield his thoughts; he had nothing to hide.

Still Voldemort did not attack; Harry, gazing back at him, saw the fear and doubt in his enemy's eyes, saw his wand hand tremble very slightly. And Harry knew that Voldemort did not dare touch him for fear of history repeating itself...and so they simply stood there, for what seemed like an age, staring into each other's pale faces in a stupor of indecision.

Then a terrible crashing of iron and stone and a furious snarling sound broke the spell; Harry whirled around. What he saw made him freeze again and several people screamed; a werewolf had broken free from his chains and was pounding towards them, the heavy manacles which had bound it still dangling, clanking, from its hind feet.

Harry leapt back, yelling "_Protego!_" but he was safe – it was not going for him – its great, fierce eyes were fixed directly on Voldemort.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Even as it leapt, teeth bared, for Voldemort's throat, the jet of green light issuing from the wand Voldemort held smashed straight into the werewolf's side; it rolled over in the air, still snarling...and then, as the werewolf hit the ground, clearly dead, it began to transform. The fur shrank into its motionless body, the fangs and claws retracted, the snout flattened; and Harry found himself staring for the second time that night at Lupin's pale, human, and motionless face.

This time he held no hope for revival; he had seen the emerald light and heard the curse. Harry turned slowly to face Voldemort with pure hatred coursing through his veins and a red mist rising in his brain. But Voldemort saw his intention and flicked his wand almost casually; Harry's own wand went spinning out of his hand and he froze, gazing at his enemy in a kind of furious, helpless trance.

"You _will_ die, Harry Potter," said Voldemort, whose eyes were gleaming fanatically. "Yes, like your filthy werewolf friend, like your foolish parents – you are right, I cannot use the Killing Curse on you – but I do not see how crushing you to death will harm me!"

Without a wand, Harry couldn't even protect himself – he threw himself to one side just as Voldemort brought his wand down as though he were pounding a hammer on an anvil. But it was no good – Harry fell, yelling, as he felt an enormous weight pushing him into the floor, squeezing the air from his lungs, pressing down on his limbs till they _must_ break, crushing his entire body...surely he would die, for a black haze was rising before his eyes... Then, distantly, through the roaring in his ears, he heard shouts that were not his own and he felt Ron throw himself down beside him, and push something roughly into his hand – Harry's own wand, growing suddenly warm and waxy in his hand.

Through the mist of pain and the growing darkness Harry looked up and met Voldemort's eyes; the wizard increased the pressure, furious at Ron's interference, and tried to force Harry's wand arm down. But slowly, agonisingly, Harry lifted the wand; it took a stupendous effort. And he could think of only one way to force Voldemort to release him; reminded, perhaps, by the sight of Lupin, and the memory of his warning...but he had no choice. Summoning the last bit of strength in his body, Harry choked the spell he had learned from that strange, green-bound book, _Possessed_.

"_Agonus Anima..._"

He felt some part of himself travel the distance between him and Voldemort in a flash, and suddenly he was seeing through Voldemort's eyes, seeing himself lying on the stone floor, and for a second fear filled him; he could see his scar, glowing green, and a bright green thread of light issuing from it into Voldemort's own body...they were connected, and Voldemort was suddenly screaming in pain. Harry felt a relief from far away as the awful pressure lifted from his body and he could breathe again. He found himself grappling with Voldemort's mind, a dark and filmy mass, yielding nothing...and he slid past it, delving deeper and deeper... Voldemort fell to his knees, trying to throw Harry out of his body, but Harry resisted with all his might.

_You will enter a void_, the book had said; _and there you will sense the soul...seek it, find it, envelop it... _

The sounds of the outside world were but a muffled howl; Harry could no longer see through Voldemort's eyes, for he had gone too deep...all around him was darkness and fear, and then he saw it, black as night, and mutilated: a ragged shard of pure darkness, gossamer-thin and twisting as though in intense pain. Harry directed his thoughts toward it and felt Voldemort contort in agony as he bore down upon the shard of soul. He wrapped his thoughts around the struggling, warped soul-piece and began to crush it. But it was difficult, and Harry was fatigued; he could feel his strength draining away as he fought to suffocate the last of Voldemort's soul, and he could feel its owner struggling, fighting...

Perhaps he was not strong enough; Harry was weakening, grappling with the soul-piece with his mind – mutilated as it was, it was still powerful, and fought to evade his grip – and he felt Voldemort begin to straighten up, felt him begin to wrestle with Harry's presence again. The darkness began to flicker, and Harry realised he could see again, still through Voldemort's eyes, could see his own body lying as though dead on the floor. Horrified that he was losing control, Harry fought back but could feel himself being forced, slowly but surely, out of Voldemort's body.

"Hold on, Harry..."

The words came from very, very far away, sounding deep and distorted...they reached Harry slowly, one by one..._hold on, Harry_...it was Hermione shouting, he could see her now – and he could see Lupin's pale and motionless form lying not too far from his own – and Ron and Ginny shouting too. A new resolution slowly began to rise deep within him. And the shouting continued:

"Keep going, Harry..."

"We're all here, Harry..."

"Harry, hold on..."

They were all shouting – _hold on_ – memories of his parents, smoky-grey and insubstantial, saying the same thing three years ago, filled Harry with warmth and new strength – and his heart swelled with gratitude for the people he loved, all shouting encouragement at him as he plunged once more.

Voldemort shuddered – he screamed again in agony – and Harry pushed into the depths, enveloped by darkness again. There was the struggling soul-piece, and Harry bore down upon it again with the full strength of his own soul. It flailed and weakened, and Harry heard, or thought he heard, still more shouting. It seemed to come to him from many miles away. "We're behind you, Harry – hold on –" And he thought it was his father's voice, and then his mother's – or was it Sirius?

And then, at last, as Harry bent his entire strength upon crushing it, more focused than he had ever been on anything in his entire life, the soul-piece shuddered – it gave one last wrenching judder of resistance – and then, in a shattering burst of darkness, it exploded.

Harry found himself flying out of Voldemort's body and back into his own. He gave a rattling gasp and pushed his torso off the ground with weak and shaking arms, looking up.

What he saw made him dizzy with wonder and blank shock; he hardly heard the rising tumult of screams and cheers and yells around him, the whirling of colour, the blurred forms of warm, familiar people lifting him to his feet and pulling him into strong and loving embraces, and kissing his hair, his face, his clothes – he, Harry, hardly felt any of this.

He barely realised that Ron and Ginny and Hermione were hugging him and Neville was thumping him on the back; his weary mind only dimly registered that all around him people were laughing and weeping, and that hosts of the silvery Hogwarts ghosts had appeared through the ceiling and were cheering too; his bewildered eyes and fatigued mind could only see one thing. For not too far away from him, Lord Voldemort was lying sprawled on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the Chamber of Secrets with wide, dull eyes; eyes that were no longer red, no longer evil, but dark, and human; and lifeless.

**

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**And there you have it. As my beta Mamacita-San said, 'ding, dong, the Dark Lord's dead!'**

**But it's not quite over (I could hardly leave it hanging there!)** –** you will find out in the Epilogue what happened in the rest of the battle, so hopefully I won't leave too many questions unanswered. If you especially want to know the fate I have planned for any particular character, let me know and I will make sure I include it if I can. **

**And, of course** –** please review!**


	29. Epilogue

Disclaimer: The publication of DH forced me to change the planned setting of King's Cross, 'cause I didn't want to feel like I was copying - so nah, I'm not J. K. Rowling or I would've known that in advance :)

**A/N: It's about 6 years after the battle. Thanks to Mamacita-san for the swift beta-ing!!**

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EPILOGUE

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The stadium was one great glittering airy space, shining gold and open to the summer sky. A small group of people were mounting the stairs toward the top row of the stands, hailed excitedly by nearly all those they passed. The sunlight that fell on them warmed them only a little, for a strong wind whistled round their ears and whipped up their hair as they climbed.

"We're at the World Cu-up, we're at the World Cu-up, and Uncle Harry's going to wi-in!" sang a small girl with long, light-brown hair as she bounded up the last three steps into their box. Then she looked down and broke off her song abruptly, eyes wide. "Wow – we can see _everyone in the world_ from up here – Dad, we can see –"

"Yes, Polly," said Lupin, sharing a quick smile with Tonks. "We do have very good seats. Where's that brother of yours got to? Jacob!"

A tousled-haired boy, the image of his sister, scrambled up the stairs to join them.

"I beat you!" sang Polly triumphantly. "I got to the top first, ha!"

Jacob scowled. "Jack tripped me up, that's why," he told her, pointing down the stairs at a small boy who had his hand held in a tight grip by Ginny and was bouncing up and down with the greatest impatience and energy.

"Correction," said Tonks, punching her son lightly on the shoulder. "You fell over Jack, kiddo. Lucky he's got rubber bones, seeing as you knocked him down half a dozen stairs. The others are taking a very long time, aren't they?" she added. "Even I'm not _that_ slow..."

"You know Ron and Hermione can't go anywhere now without having to shake hands with every witch or wizard they meet," said Lupin with a smile. "Nor Ginny, for that matter; she and Hermione are sick to death of it, but Ron –"

"Oh, Ron's soaking it up!" Tonks said, and they both laughed as they watched Hermione disentangle her husband from the clutches of a gaggle of middle-aged witches and pull him onward and upward – with difficulty, as she was holding a sleeping baby in the crook of her left arm. Tonks and Lupin sat down, and Polly and Jacob leant over the rail, gazing avidly at the roaring multitudes below them.

"Ready for the big win?" asked Ron when he finally caught up. He was looking rather pleased with himself. Jack—a skinny five-year-old with a mop of red hair—broke away from Ginny, who was a little behind the others, and ran toward the Lupin twins, waving an England flag and a tiny model of a white-robed, black-haired, and spectacled Quidditch player.

"Oh yes, all ready," said Lupin. "We have the house set up for the post-match celebration."

"Isn't that a bit premature?" Hermione asked with an amused smile, settling into a seat with her baby sleeping soundly in her arms. "Aren't Romania supposed to be pretty good?"

"You don't trust Harry?" Ron asked her incredulously. "You should know by now that Dementors are the only things that stop him from winning."

But Hermione had stopped listening; she was looking behind her, concerned. "Ginny, are you okay?" she said, getting up again and stretching out a hand to help Ginny up the last few steps.

"Why," panted Ginny, as she reached level ground, "did we have to get seats right at the top?"

The others looked at her in surprise. Ginny had never before had any trouble with stairs.

"Oh – don't worry," Ginny said hastily, seeing their concern. "I'm just out of breath, that's all." She dropped thankfully into a seat.

Hermione looked at her shrewdly but was distracted as a small voice at Ron's knee demanded, "Uncle Ron – what's that?" Jack was standing there, tugging at his uncle's trousers and pointing to a weirdly-shaped object sticking out of the top of Ron's backpack.

"Oh, these," said Ron, tugging an old pair of Omniculars out of the backpack and handing them to his son. "Yeah, they're pretty cool, your dad got them for me when we went to the World Cup last time."

"When was that?" Jack asked curiously, clutching the Omniculars in both hands.

"A few years before you were even a twinkle in your mother's eye," Ron grinned. "Here, I'll show you how that thing works."

"Mind you share it with the twins," called Hermione as Jack ran back to the railing.

"Hey, there's Neville!" said Ron suddenly, pointing to a place several rows below them. "And Luna, look – I haven't seen them since their wedding. Neville, Luna!" he yelled.

He had to shout more than once; the distance between them was less than twenty feet but yelling over the heads of the tumultuous crowd was like combating the roar of an ocean. Then Luna turned, looking upward dreamily. Her face brightened as she caught sight of them; she beamed and waved madly. Neville's head swivelled to see who his wife was looking at and when he saw Ron, Hermione, and the others he too waved, then gave them the thumbs-up.

"You _know_ that woman?" asked Polly, mouth open. Ron and Hermione shared an amused glance. Luna had not changed; even at this distance, they could see that she was wearing her radish earrings and had entwined what looked like overlarge daisies in her long, straggling hair.

"So when does the match start?" asked Tonks, leaning over to them, just as a thunderous voice boomed without warning around into the stadium, making them all jump.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" came the happy voice of Ludo Bagman. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to the four hundred and twenty-fifth Quidditch World Cup, and the pleasure of our country to be hosting it again so soon! Welcome! It is England and Romania for our final and long-anticipated match, England and Romania – and now, I'll keep you waiting no longer – let the fun begin!"

The stadium burst into applause as the mascot for Romania – a huge, tethered dragon with emerald-green scales and lethal-looking golden horns – reared up on its hind legs and bellowed, its wings beating the air.

"Oh, another dragon? Nice bit of déjà-vu for Harry," said a voice behind Ron and Hermione, making them both jump again. Fred was stood behind them, watching the Romanian Longhorn with interest.

"Where's the golden egg?" added George.

"You two got here, then," said Ron, moving up a seat to make room. "Sell much?" Fred and George had been selling their Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products at the stadium gates.

The twins slid into the chairs with identical grins. "Could hardly get away," said Fred, clapping as the English mascots, a thousand bright blue Cornish pixies, chattered fiercely at the dragon from behind the bars of their huge golden cage.

"And it's the English National Quidditch team!" yelled Ludo Bagman as the first white-robed Quidditch player zoomed onto the pitch to cheers and applause. "Brockby, Bell, Quaich, Harris, Higgins, Wood, aaaand..._Potter!_"

"Yeah!" cried Jack, waving his little model furiously.

The applause rose to a screaming, ear-splitting climax as Harry shot into the stadium after his teammates, his white robes streaming behind him.

"Wicked," said Ron, watching Harry ecstatically, then settling back in his seat to watch the blue-robed opposing team enter the pitch and get into formation. "Romania – ha! _No_ chance..."

* * *

Ron was right; only forty minutes later the score was ninety-sixty to England and Harry was speeding upwards, the Romanian Seeker Pavlenko following twenty yards behind with a look of utter panic on his face. The Snitch was a miniscule glint of gold that the roaring, screaming crowd strained to see. The great dragon bellowed, and the Romanian team slowed to a halt, horror-struck. Harry flattened himself down on his broom to avoid the two Bludgers that the desperate Beaters sent pounding in his direction, and shot up even faster. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, all were on their feet yelling, and the children were beside themselves with excitement – then Harry's hand closed around the Snitch and the stadium erupted as forty thousand people stamped and punched each other in ear-splitting euphoria and yelled themselves hoarse...

* * *

Afterwards, for what felt like several hours, Harry and his exhilarated, sobbing teammates were squashed in the midst of a huge bunch of photographers and _Daily Prophet_ journalists and bombarded by the pressing, screaming crowd. Ron and Hermione had dumped their sleeping baby with a willing Luna and fought their way through the throng to hug him as he came out of the changing room, his hair and face dripping with Butterbeer and an overcome Oliver Wood weeping on his shoulder; now they stood beside him as he shook hands with and was thumped on the back by what seemed to be hundreds of thousands of people. Soon they were joined by Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, Fred and George, the wildly-excited Jack and the young twins, and many other familiar faces.

"Yeh did it, Harry, I knew yeh'd do it!" bellowed a voice above Harry's head, and he buckled, laughing, as Hagrid's gigantic hand clapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh Harry, I've never been so proud of you!" wept Mrs Weasley as Mr Weasley wrung Harry's hand painfully, his glasses falling off in his delight. "Ron always said you would do it but – oh, Harry!"

At last Harry broke away from the crowd, breathless and drained with excitement, and feeling an intense desire for celebratory time alone with his family and friends.

"C'mon!" he yelled to Ron, Hermione, and the others. "Let's get out of here – Wood can keep the crowd happy – can't you, Oliver?" he added over his shoulder as he scribbled down a few more hasty signatures for the exhilarated crowd.

Wood – who was still clinging with one hand to the gigantic silver Quidditch Cup as though he was afraid it would disappear if he let go – simply sobbed harder and croaked, "_Best – damn – Seeker – ever!_"

"There's a party ready and waiting at our house," Lupin said in Harry's ear. "And about five tons of Butterbeer waiting to be ingested, though I'm afraid there'll be rather a long walk –"

"I could walk a thousand miles today," said Harry, laughing. He meant it. The adrenaline was still pounding through his veins and he felt as light as air. "What are we waiting for?" he called to the others. "Party at Remus', let's go!"

Luna drifted through the crowd to give the baby back to Hermione and they all squashed themselves into the now-empty changing rooms to take a Portkey over to the Lupin home. Harry lifted his hand to the crowd in a last gesture of thanks for their applause, and disappeared after his friends.

As the Lupins lived in a large, sprawling, and mostly Muggle town, they landed about four miles away in the middle of some secluded fields to avoid being seen appearing out of thin air, and walked the rest of the distance. After the noise and screaming at the World Cup Stadium, the tingling silence of the countryside was almost a shock; in the early evening the air was fresh and cool, and far above, the first stars had begun to glimmer through the pale blue-purple mantle of the sky. It was an exhilarated group that tramped the narrow country lanes that led to the village of Tickleworth, and Harry almost felt as though he were flying. The balloon of triumph in his chest was so uplifting he hardly noticed the aches from the game, and that his hair was turning frosty with dried Butterbeer.

Every now and then they saw fireworks going off in the distance, in all directions, and Harry realised that the whole country was celebrating the first time England had won the Quidditch World Cup for one hundred and fifty-four years.

Almost unconsciously, Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell a little behind the large, chattering group, who parted to let them pass, with many more thumps on the back and rapturous cheek-kissing. Many had come for the celebration: Hagrid, Mr and Mr Weasley, Fred and George, Fleur and her sister Gabrielle, Charlie and Flavia, Kingsley, Luna and Neville, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan with their families...Harry even saw Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, and Colin and Dennis Creevey, amongst others, in the crowd. Ginny glanced back at Harry with a small smile and walked on ahead with the children to give him, Ron, and Hermione some time together; what with their busy lives, career- and family-wise, Harry saw less of his friends than he would have liked nowadays.

"You were amazing, mate," Ron said for at least the twentieth time. "Pavlenko deserved what he got," he added with satisfaction. The Romanian Seeker had tried to slyly foul Harry several times and then claimed to have known nothing about it.

"I just can't quite believe I've got here," said Harry. The whole day had had a dreamlike quality to him. "I've been imagining this happening for so many years – and now – well – we've won!"

Jack, just ahead, had been listening. "My dad _always_ wins," he said proudly to Polly. "No one's ever beaten him, not even – not even Volmetort."

"Voldemort," Polly corrected him. "He didn't beat my dad, either. He fought too."

"Yeah," agreed Jack reluctantly, unwilling to admit that Harry had not been the only hero of the battle. Then he brightened. "But my dad smashed Volme—Voldetort up _before_ he could beat your dad."

"Do they really know who You-Know-Who was, d'you reckon?" asked Ron. Everyone sobered slightly as the talk took this more serious turn, and the bubble in Harry's chest sank a little as he looked at the children ahead of him, tumbling carelessly along the overgrown path.

"Not really," he replied. "Big nasty wizard that we rescued everyone from, I think is all Jack knows as yet."

"I'm not looking forward to telling our William when he gets older," said Hermione, nodding at her little son, still sleeping soundly in her arms. "He'll have to know at some point, but I'll hate to darken his little world with knowledge of Voldemort and Death Eaters."

"I'll leave it to you to tell to him as a nice bedtime story," said Ron, moving behind Harry so Hermione couldn't thump him. "And hey," he added, suddenly looking taken aback. "Did Will actually sleep through the entire match? Isn't it about time he woke up?"

"Shh," said Hermione. "No." She suddenly grinned sheepishly. "I didn't want him to wake up and start crying during the game, so I – um – put a couple of drops of sleeping potion into his bottle before I fed him."

Harry laughed at Hermione's embarrassment.

"Good thinking," said Ron. "We might've missed something. Hey, did you notice Wood's second save, while you were flying around up there, Harry? Smoothest thing I've ever seen –"

The endless Quidditch talk kept Harry and Ron happy for the first few miles, but as they began to pass closer to clusters of Muggle residences, the conversation slowed and stopped; a few Muggles, hearing the noise of so many footsteps, had already looked curiously out of their windows as they passed by.

"Oh, we're nearly there," said Hermione after a while, peering ahead. The Lupin house – a small, thatched cottage on the outskirts of Tickleworth, backing onto a large, untidy garden with an apple tree and a small pond – was just discernible, cloaked in the evening shadows.

"I'm almost too tired to celebrate anymore," said Harry, yawning suddenly. The walk through the cool, twilight-gathering fields had had a calming effect on his euphoria; it was crazy, he'd just had one of the most incredible days of his life, but it was almost too much –right now he hardly wanted to think any more about the Quidditch match, or relive the more spectacular moments of the game again with Ron. In fact, he could almost just drop down in the dew-flecked grass outside the cottage and go to sleep...

"Harry?" It was Ginny, drawing him away from Ron and Hermione as Tonks unlocked the door. "Harry, I have something to tell you. Come over here a minute."

"What is it?" Harry asked as Ginny pulled him to the side of the house. He looked down at his wife, her face pale and ghostly in the light of the full moon which had come out as they walked the last mile. But though her face seemed ghostly, Ginny's eyes were warm and sparkling even in the near-darkness. Harry only half took this in; he really was exhausted. He suppressed another yawn.

"Well, World-Cup winner, I have some news," said Ginny, then laughed. "Oh, your nerves must be in such a state after today, this probably isn't the best time, but – Harry, listen – I'm going to have another baby."

That woke Harry up.

"You – I – a baby?" he said blankly. "Seriously? Seriously! What, wow, I mean," Harry stumbled, taking it in. "How – how long have you known?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Harry!" said Ginny, laughing at Harry's shock and delight. "But I only knew this morning for sure, and I didn't want to tell you then in case it made you lose your focus in the match today."

Harry took Ginny in his arms and kissed her in reply, his heart bursting with happiness at the news. Another child! Jack was the greatest kid he could have hoped for, but it would be wonderful to have a baby in the house again, and terrific for Jack to have a brother or sister to play with. Harry knew what it was like to be an only child – Dudley had hardly counted as brotherly – and he didn't want that for Jack. In fact, he wanted Jack to have as many sibling playmates as he could wish for. Harry thought of the Weasley clan, still so strong and loving though it had lost two family members in the war; that was what he wanted for his children. Vaguely, a memory twitched in his mind; someone telling him he would live to a ripe old age, yes, and have twelve children...who had said that? Oh, of course – Professor Trelawney. Harry chuckled inwardly as he and Ginny relaxed in each other's arms, silently sharing their happiness. Perhaps that old fraud would be right after all...

"Harry?" Lupin stuck his head out of the door. "Are you out here – oh, sorry!" he said, as Harry and Ginny broke apart and looked round.

"No problem," said Harry, smiling as he came into the warmth and light of the cottage. "Remus, guess what? You're going to be a godfather..."

* * *

The celebrations went on long into the night. Everyone wanted Harry to tell them again and again the finer points of the match, although they had seen them all with their own eyes; they pressed Butterbeer after Butterbeer into his hands; they drank Harry's health countless times; and when everyone had got a little drunker, tried to parade him on their shoulders around the living room, despite his protests – until Tonks saw that her ceiling was in danger of being cracked to pieces by Harry's head and threatened to blast everyone outside.

"I'm going outside anyway," whispered Hermione to Ron and Harry. "I need air, it's boiling in here." The little house was so full of witches and wizards it seemed about to burst at the seams, and after the hours of partying it was hot, sticky, and airless inside.

Following Hermione's lead, everyone eventually squeezed out of the little patio doors and into the cool night air. It was a cloudless night, the stars crisp and clear above their head, and the garden was soaked in moonlight. The occasional firework could still be seen glittering in the distance. The shock of the cold, clean air made Harry's head reel a little, but he breathed deeply and slowly his mind cleared. As he stepped further onto the grass, Harry noticed Lupin glance at the full moon with a strange expression in his eyes. Lupin saw Harry looking at him and smiled.

"Six years later and I still feel like the luckiest man on earth whenever I see the full moon," he said. "And I still can't get over expecting to start transforming when it appears."

"Transforming?" piped a small and puzzled voice. Lupin jumped, startled, and looked down to see Jacob at his side. Polly emerged from behind her brother, looking very awake as she stared up at her father.

Lupin looked back at her wordlessly and a brief flicker of some emotion – perhaps fear – flashed through his eyes, before they closed. His face became oddly still.

"You haven't told them?" Harry murmured to Lupin, who shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Tonks, as though she had sensed something was wrong, had come to her husband's side. One glance at him, and at Harry's expression, and she evidently understood.

"Perhaps it's time they knew, Remus," she said gently.

"Is this the best time?" he said helplessly.

Tonks pulled a face, and said, "It's as good as any other."

After a pause, Lupin sighed and squared his shoulders, but seemed unable to speak or look his children in the eye.

"Daddy," said Polly simply. "What's wrong? Why do you feel lucky when you see the moon?"

Finally Lupin spoke, with some difficulty. "Because, Polly," he began, very slowly. "Because the moon used to mean a very different thing to me. I –" he stopped.

"Your daddy owes a big favour to Voldemort," said Harry helpfully, putting a supportive hand on Lupin's arm. "Voldemort accidentally fixed a big problem of his."

"My little furry problem," said Lupin, and at last he relaxed a little. "Polly, Jacob, listen to me –" this was entirely unnecessary as his children were both staring raptly at him already – "I used to be slightly different before you were born. I was once – well, I was once –" he visibly steeled himself – "a werewolf."

The twins looked at their father uncomprehendingly. Werewolves were dark, frightening creatures that had only ever prowled the shadowy edges of their imaginations; how could their dad be, or have been, one of them?

"I was bitten by a werewolf when I was young," Lupin went on, seeming to find it easier to speak now the worst was over. "And every month for over nearly thirty years I transformed into one myself. But the year before you were born, in the final battle against Voldemort, it all stopped."

"How?" breathed Jacob, his eyes bright.

"The night of the battle was a full moon," said Lupin steadily. "And before very long, right in the middle of the fighting, I transformed into a wolf."

Polly swallowed.

"One reason that werewolves are such dangerous creatures," Lupin said carefully, "is that they are very difficult to hurt when in animal form. No chain can bind them for long, for they are unimaginably strong, and curses bounce right back off them. Even the worst curse of all, the Killing Curse, will have no effect."

Polly was beginning to look frightened. Tonks, noticing, said quickly, "But that's where Voldemort helped your dad out; and you know, kids, he was probably the only wizard that ever could have. Voldemort was more powerfully magical than anyone, except for Albus Dumbledore – and his Killing Curses were stronger than any other witch or wizard's have ever been. The one he aimed at your father did not bounce off."

"It penetrated," said Lupin quietly. He was strangely calm. "And it killed the werewolf in me, leaving my true self unharmed. For the first time since I was six years old, I knew what it was like to be fully human again. I was knocked unconscious by what had happened, but I woke up soon after Voldemort's death, feeling better than I had done in many, many years. And that is why I still feel lucky now, when the moon is full." He glanced upward again. The moon itself was beginning to fade, for the beginning of morning was upon them, and dawn breathed softly through the air.

Jacob, standing very straight as he gazed at his father with clear eyes, nodded; and there was only pride in his face, and admiration. Polly looked slightly more unsure, but Lupin held out his arms, and after a second's hesitation she climbed into them. Lupin held her close to him. Slowly, the doubt left Polly's eyes and she gave a little smile. "I guess now I can tell Jack that you're just as good as Uncle Harry," she said. "Seeing as you survived the Killing Curse too."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, your dad stole my glory," he said, sharing an amused glance with Lupin, in whose eyes Harry saw great relief.

Thinking that Lupin would probably want some time alone with his children after this, Harry left him and Tonks and sought out Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. He found them sitting on a dew-damp garden bench, chatting and watching Jack happily playing with Dean, Seamus, and Hannah Abbott's children in the long grass near the pond.

"How do they have this much energy?" asked Harry, sitting down on the arm of the bench. "It's nearly four in the morning. I'm amazed they're not dropping with sleep right now. _I'm_ shattered, and I'm not three years old!"

"Too much excitement," said Ginny. "They're still on a high. Will's sound asleep in Jacob's old cot upstairs, but Jack would never be able to sleep while we're all still celebrating, and it's such an occasion I haven't the heart to take him home yet."

Harry, smiling as he realised that the game the little ones were playing was a re-enactment of that day's match, suddenly remembered the news he'd been meaning to tell Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, talking of children," he said. "You'll never guess what. I got a letter from Dudley last week –"

"You're kidding!" Ron interrupted, looking surprised.

"Yeah, I know – I didn't even know he could write," joked Harry. "But he had a good reason for contacting me. His son, you know, Jeremy – well –" Harry began to laugh.

Hermione looked at him and her eyebrows lifted as she half-guessed his thoughts. "He's not –" she began questioningly, then broke off as she saw Harry grin. "No!" she exclaimed, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Is he really?"

"Is he really what?" Ron demanded, looking from Harry to Hermione, completely lost.

"He's a wizard!" said Harry, snorting accidentally as, not for the first time since he had received the news, he pictured the flabbergasted look on Dudley's face when he realised his son was magical.

Ron's mouth fell open as Hermione, too, started to laugh.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," said Harry, controlling himself. "Apparently he gave the kid a marshmallow, and the next thing Dudley knew it started to grow – and little Jerry was trying to stuff this Quaffle-sized marshmallow into his mouth."

"Eurgh – that's horrible," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose.

"No it's not!" said Ron. "Ha! Brilliant – hey, Junior, guess who you'll be going to Hogwarts with?"

But Jack wasn't listening; he had found a long broken branch under the apple tree and was riding it like a broomstick, making whooshing noises as he ran through the uncut grass. "I'm Dad!" he yelled. "And I see the Snitch – yes! I've caught the Snitch! We win, we win!"

"Jerry's a good kid," said Harry, smiling as he watched his small son leap over a grassy tussock, waving the pinecone that was the Snitch. "I'm still surprised how well he's turned out, considering he has my cousin for a dad. I reckon he and Jack'll get along fine. And you know what? Dudley seems okay with it, too."

"Yeah?" said Ron, interested.

"Yeah," said Harry. "He panicked at first but he seems to have got used to the idea now. My aunt and uncle are furious, but from the look of things I reckon Dudley's proud that Jerry's different from the Muggle kids. He only wrote to let me know, said he'd see me at King's Cross in a few years, when Jerry goes to Hogwarts."

"I don't like thinking of our children going to Hogwarts yet," said Hermione, sighing. "They're still so young but they're growing up so quickly."

"We've a few good years to go yet," said Ginny. "And besides, you know they'll be fine. They might not have Dumbledore and McGonagall but at least they won't have Voldemort hiding in their teachers' turbans, or – or Basilisks wandering around all over the place."

"True," Ron agreed. "It won't be half as interesting. What'll they do all day?"

"Friends, a word!" called Mr Weasley's voice, halting their conversation. The children stopped playing and looked round questioningly.

Mr Weasley was standing in the centre of the garden, slightly thinner and perhaps a little more tired-looking than when Harry had first met him twelve years ago, but otherwise unchanged. He smiled as everyone turned their faces toward him.

"Molly and I will be off soon," he said. "But before we go I would like to make a toast, just one more. We've all had a day we will never forget – Harry least of all – and it has been wonderful celebrating together." He paused. "But I would like to raise a glass to those who could not be with us tonight; those who helped make it possible for this to happen and for our families to be together now."

A murmur of understanding and appreciation went round the otherwise silent garden.

"To absent friends," said Mr Weasley, raising his glass.

Harry reached for a bottle of Butterbeer and lifted it to his lips.

"Right yeh are, Arthur, we can't be fergettin' them," Hagrid agreed, draining his huge tankard of ale in one gulp and nodding sincerely.

They all knew of whom Hagrid and Mr Weasley spoke. Sirius, Dumbledore, McGonagall; and of course, those whom they had lost in the last battle in Hogwarts school. Bill Weasley, killed by Voldemort as he broke the protective spells round the last Horcrux; Professors Sprout and Vector, found under the body of Rabastan Lestrange, no one knowing exactly how they had died; Alastor Moody, who had fallen under the claws of two hulking werewolves; Severus Snape, on whom at least seven Death Eaters had turned when they realised whose side he was fighting for, and who had gone down bravely and silently, killing three Death Eaters before being cursed in the back by Mulciber; and others, many others...

The children looked at the remembering, dawn-lit faces of their parents with wide and uncomprehending eyes, and before long Jack sighed sleepily. Harry looked over at his son, whose eyelids were at last beginning to droop.

"Time to be getting back," he said quietly to Ginny, nodding his head at Jack. He stood up and slipped his arm into hers. "It's been a long day. Let's go home."

When Harry told them he was leaving, Ron and Hermione rose, too, and disappeared into the house to fetch their sleeping child. Harry and Ginny left quietly, giving their goodbyes to Hagrid, the Lupins and the Weasleys. Before the Portkey took them and Jack away to their house in Godric's Hollow, Harry looked around at the relaxed and cheerful gathering of friends. A rush of gladness filled his tired body. Like Mr Weasley, Harry saw the irreparable gaps left by those they had lost; but he thought of some words Dumbledore had said to him long ago, words he had never forgotten: _After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure_.

And Harry realised that he no longer felt the loss of his friends so keenly, that the scars of his past were healing; he might be no Seer, but he could see the unfolding of many long and contented days in his future, and could know no greater happiness than his life as it was now, together with Ginny. Harry understood, now, that loss was not forever, and that those who had fallen in the war were merely waiting, like his parents; waiting for those distant days when the survivors would join them at last, beyond the dividing veil of death.

FIN.

* * *

**Ah. I might just type that again. FIN! **

**Well, the Author's Note and Acknowledgements are on the next page. In the meantime, please review; it's the last time I'll ever ask!**


	30. Acknowledgements

* * *

_Long, rambling Author's Note and Acknowledgements_

* * *

And it's finished! At long, long last.

Well, wow. You know, when I first started Broken Soul, I'd never got past more than about three pages of any story, so when this one got underway I vowed I'd get to the end for once! Even so, I regularly break my promises to myself, and I know that I would never, _ever_ have got this far if it hadn't been for all you guys who've helped me on the way with your amazing reviews! I might possibly have done about two chapters, than Broken Soul would've sunk into the darkness of oblivion and quietly died.

So I'd like to say thanks again to you all! In particular, to **Mamacita-san** who has been a FANTABULOUS friend and beta, to **Miranda Took** who in her emails has been wonderfully persistent in nudging and pestering me for updates for nearly two years, which frequently spurred me to get those chapters out sooner than I would've done otherwise (and being me, 'otherwise' would've been about half a year in between chapters, believe me!), to **Folk** for the amazing _twenty-seven_ reviews in a row, and to **Invaderk** for being the sole person to review every single chapter!

To everyone else who reviewed (and if you're in bold font, it's 'cause you're especially amazing and your reviews were amazing and you've stuck with me for ages, corrected my mistakes and/or have helped me TONS!) –

Alexander, **AlyGranger**, Angelripper, APpLeBun, Baby seal, Big Fan, **Blonde-Titch**, **cascade-of-black-ink**, dagny366, **Dead Luthien**, **Dumbledore Prince**, **Euripides**, **fath8252**, fussbudget, **Hiya!**, hpaddict55, Hyperness is a Virtue, InFabula,** islington bus no. 199**, **Iva1201**, Jana Holmes, jayley, jellybean-laura, k, .kaye.fox., **Kara's Aunty**, Leather Splotches, Lena, Lizzykai, luci92, MankyOldBoot, mirell, **Myrtle the Tyrtle**, owlfactory, **peacegirl**, projectjay, Rini08, **RubyLinkle**, Sarah Joe, seaofstars, Sera dy Relandrant, **Ski000Girl**, Sunny Christian, temerity, The chosen ones twin, Truth-Seeking Cretin, Victoria Humblydum, -xAndromedaBlackx-

– THANK YOU!

Much love,

Inky  
xxx

* * *


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